Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Because it didn’t matter that I’d scored the woman, that she was mine, she was never going to be the domestic type.
Sure, she would throw some shit together here and there, but she wasn’t a ‘make three meals a day from scratch’ sort.
And I didn’t need her to be.
I liked her for what she was, not for the potential of what she could do for me.
That second thing, that wasn’t love.
Love was appreciating all the shit that made Hope who she was, pain in the ass traits and all. Like her stubbornness. Like her difficulty talking about what was going on in her head.
But she was settling in, getting more comfortable with what was growing within us, finding a new rhythm to her life.
“You good, mama?” I called as she hovered in the doorway of the library where I’d been staring at a page in my book without absorbing any of it.
To that, she let out a deep sigh, her shoulders slumping.
“Come on,” I said, tossing my book on the table, and waving her in to sit down.
She did, leaning back into me, letting me wrap her up.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m bored,” she admitted, sighing hard.
“Not built for that easy life, huh?” I asked.
“What do people do all day?” she asked. “There isn’t a single piece of laundry left to do in this house.”
“Figure they watch TV, pick up hobbies, that sort of shit.”
“There was one interesting show on, and I binged the whole thing already.”
“So, you going back to work?” I asked, always knowing that was coming.
“I guess I need to start putting resumes out.”
“Or, I’m spitballin’ here, you open your own place.”
There was one long minute, her mind running wild with the possibilities.
“I don’t know if taking out a loan that big is smart,” she said.
“Loan,” I scoffed. “Wasn’t talking about a loan, ma.”
“I’m not taking your money.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“That’s not a reason, mama,” I told her. “Got plenty of it. Won’t even notice it’s gone.”
“That’s not the point.”
“So fucking stubborn. Fine. How about I invest. And you pay it back and buy me out over time?”
I knew I had her when she paused at that.
“I’ll think about it.”
She did.
After I fucked her long and hard on the couch in the library.
The next morning, she set to work on plans.
Hope - 1 month
I had only been back to my apartment once, grabbing a stash of clothes, and bringing them back with me to A’s place.
A’s place that was somehow feeling more like “home” than my place ever had. I decided not to think too much about that.
All I knew was it was where I wanted to be.
It was where we hosted my parents when I couldn’t hold off my mom for another moment.
She’d stood there in the kitchen in stunned silence as I made us dinner from one of the recipes A had given me the last time I cooked for his men.
Andres had even gained extra favor in my dad’s eyes that night when A asked him to run up profiles on the remaining men in his organization, to use his profiling skills to decide who was most likely to be swayed by disloyalty.
I’d never asked for details on what happened to Luis that day. I’d heard the screams. I understood the depth of his rage about it. Luis suffered. Then he’d died. That was all I needed to know.
He’d spent the week afterward adding even more cameras to the house, covering every square inch, making sure there wasn’t a single blind spot again.
No one had the codes but him.
And me.
Maybe it was silly, but that really meant something to me. It was the high-tech version of giving me keys to his place. It gave what we had even more legitimacy.
Not that I’d had questions.
If there was one thing I could say about A, it was when he was in, he was all in.
He didn’t just tell me he loved me once, responding to me saying it, during a life-and-death sort of situation.
He said it all the time. When he was heading out, or when I was. When I did something he really liked. Or even shit he didn’t like.
Love you, mama, but you’re being really fucking anal about this.
And, hey, who didn’t like being told they were loved even when they were being annoying?
I thought that being in his house would feel weird with how he let his men in and out of it.
But he’d put an end to that after the attempted coup. The only man who came and went inside without explicitly being invited in was Marco. Who, as it turned out, had been loyal to the end. And kind of ridiculously excited about the idea of his boss having a woman.
“He needs it, y’know?” he said while raiding the fridge. “Being alone all the time, it’s not good for a man. Especially not a man in a hard line of work.”