Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
I see Gina’s hard edge flash through her eyes as she claims the woman by the arm. “This way.” She pushes her along, maintaining her hold while the woman struggles and shouts expletive after expletive, calling Lainey every name under the sun. “Yeah, yeah,” Gina mumbles. “You’re still leaving.”
I look across to Sal, finding his mouth dropped open, his chin virtually resting on his black shiny shoes. Then I turn and look at Lainey. She’s in a trance, her hands joined in front of her body, her fingers twiddling nervously.
“What the bloody hell?” Sal comes to life, looking at Lainey. Not that she’s aware, still lost in a daze. “Lainey, get in my office now.” He throws his arm out toward his door angrily.
“I’ve got this,” I say, not prepared to feed Lainey to the lion. Besides, I want answers, and I’m not prepared to wait for them. I take Lainey’s arm and lead her away through the building crowd before Sal can object. I’m not bothered what he makes of this.
“Tyler,” he calls after me, outraged.
“I said I’ve got it,” I shout back. “You need to calm down, and Lainey needs some ice on her cheek.”
Pulling Lainey down the corridor, I catch sight of Gina escorting the woman onto the elevator, so I slow a little, making sure the doors are closed before I take Lainey past and provoke the mad cow again.
Once the coast is clear, I guide her into my office and close the door behind me, taking her to the couch and sitting her down. What I want to do is demand she talks and puts my mind at rest, but human nature kicks in, and I go to my bathroom to wet a face cloth instead, taking it to her and resting it on her red cheek. She hisses, jumping a little, but she refuses to look at me, evading my eyes like she could disintegrate if she catches sight of me.
I give her time, holding the compress to her face until she’s ready to talk, but after too many minutes of awkward silence, I figure that she’ll never be ready to talk. “You okay?” I ask, a stupid question, I realize, but I need something easy to break the quiet. But not easy enough it seems. She doesn’t answer, staring blankly at the floor. “Lainey?” I ask, moving in toward her, trying to make her feel comfortable. I’ve gotten to know her well enough to know that if I handle this wrong, she’ll bolt. “Talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” She looks up at me, and the hopelessness in her glassy eyes pains me.
I swallow, bracing myself to ask the questions I don’t want to know the answers to. “Did you have an affair with that woman’s husband?”
She shakes her head. “It wasn’t an affair. There was one encounter. He wanted it to be more and started pursuing me. I met him last night to make it clear that I wasn’t interested.”
“He’s fallen in love with you.”
“Or lust.” She shrugs.
I don’t correct her. He’s in love with her after that one encounter. I can relate. I think I fell that quickly, too. “Did you know he was married?”
Her silence answers my question, and so does her need to look away from me.
I try to breathe some calm into me. “Which one was he?” I ask, pulling her eyes back to me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean of all the men I’ve seen you with, which one was he?”
She nibbles on her lip nervously, again looking away from me.
Realization hits me. “None of them?” I blurt, unable to keep the shock from my voice. “Wow, Lainey. I didn’t think there was a player in the world who could play harder than me.” I slump back on the couch, avoiding mentioning that I never got involved with married women. She doesn’t need to hear that, and I definitely don’t feel like a slap right now. I already feel like I’ve been cuffed around my face a few stinging times already. I’m at a loss for words.
“I should probably get going.” She’s up and halfway across my office before her words sink in, making a dash for the door.
She’s quick.
But I’m quicker.
Even with a busted fucking foot. I’m blocking the exit of my office before she makes it there, a look of utter disbelief on my face. “Get going where?” I question as her feet stutter to a stop in front of me.
“Well, I doubt I have a job anymore,” she says to the floor. Her cowardliness enrages me. She has a habit of spiking these feelings in me. Run. It’s her answer every time. What is it with this woman? She keeps swinging from all in to not fucking in at all. It’s sending me crazy.