Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
The drive north is only ten minutes, and soon I’m pulling up to an apartment complex. It’s an ordinary one with a beige stucco exterior, black iron fencing, and a few vines growing around the edges of the building. I push open the gate and search for the apartment number. I find Mila’s place on the second floor. Her front door is decorated with a birdhouse around the peephole and a small rattan mat welcoming me.
I bypass the doorbell and bang my fist on the door. I hear shuffling inside and then a pause as she presumably peeks through the peephole. I wave and wait. After a series of latches and locks being released, the door finally opens, and Mila’s beautiful face appears in a small crack.
“Mr. Valentine?”
“Archer.” I push the door open wide and stride inside. “You can’t call me Mr. Valentine unless that’s some kind of kink you’re into.” The place looks bare. She has a small futon, no television, a card table in the kitchen with two folding chairs, and a lamp. There are some nail holes on the wall which suggest that the place had a few more decorations, but I don’t know if that predated Mila’s move in. Down the hall, the bathroom sports a shower curtain with ducks marching across the middle and a couple of matching hand towels. Cute.
“Archer. Can I ask what you’re doing here?”
“You can.” I pinch her chin. “But isn’t it obvious? I’m here to see you.” The first bedroom I come across is bare. Other than a few indents in the carpet, there’s no sign of life in this room. The second bedroom is full. There are clothes on the bed. The dresser’s top drawer is slightly ajar. The closet has clothes spilling out of it.
Mila pushes past me and scoops up her clothes as if she thinks her slightly messy home is going to offend me. What is offensive is how empty this place is. It’s clean and neat but…there’s nothing here.
“When did you move in?” I ask.
“Six months ago.” She drops her armful of clothes into the closet and kicks the door shut. “Why? Oh, are you talking about the living room? I moved to Las Vegas with a friend, and three months after we got here, she met her now husband. They moved into a place together in Whitney, where he works.”
“The sofa and table were hers?” I guess.
“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to replace them but haven’t gotten around to it.” She crosses the room and slowly maneuvers me out of the bedroom.
“Good thing that you didn’t since you’re moving in with me. Get your stuff and let’s be off.” The clock on the microwave says it’s nearly eight. “I’m hungry. Have you eaten?”
“Off where?”
“Off to the casino. What do you want to eat? I’ll have the chef prepare it. Salmon? Steak? I read pregnant women need protein and iron. Also, never leave the hotel without checking with me first.” I pull out my phone and dial the hotel. “Ah, Georges, yes, it is Mr. Valentine. I would like to order a Porterhouse medium rare with the regular sides and my woman—yes, Georges, the rumor is true, I’m getting married—she’ll have—” I break off to hear Mila’s order. “What will you have, dear?”
“I already ate.”
“She’ll have the same. And chocolate cake for dessert. The molten lava one.” I hang up. “Get your things. We don’t want to keep Georges waiting.”
“I already ate,” she repeats. “I don’t need anything from Georges. You can go, though. Thanks for checking up on me even though I didn’t ask.” She walks over to the door and holds it open.
I stare at her in confusion. Does she not understand that I am telling her, not asking? After a moment of silent contemplation where she holds the door open and I consider my options, I come to a conclusion. Giving Mila choices at this point, while she’s pregnant, is dumb. It’s time for me to make the decisions for her. It’s for her own good.
CHAPTER 6
MILA
“How did I get here?”
“I brought you here, love.” Archer winks at me from across the table. I shoot him a glare.
“It wasn’t really a question.” I’m starting to think Archer thinks I’m not the brightest. I suppose I might not be.
I did lose my virginity within minutes to a man I just met in a bar. And I never once thought to ask about a condom. Every time this man is around, I tend to lose my sense. Even when I do try to be stern, he seems to bulldoze his way through any wall I put up.
If I wasn’t so annoyed, I might actually be impressed. I’d also be rather smitten if not for the fact he’s only doing this for the baby that’s growing inside my belly. The one he put there.