Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
“No game,” he said, raising his free hand in a placating gesture. “It just reminded me of you.” He ran his thumb over the red rose. “Beautiful.” He gently touched the few bruised petals. “But a little damaged.”
God, he was laying it on thick. “If you came here to fuck—”
“Actually, I have to go. My wife is likely waiting for me.”
When I made no move to take the rose, he took my free hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles, and I hid the shiver it caused well enough. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hide the goosebumps that lined my arms, and when Aslan spied them, he smiled, running soft fingertips over them. “I think you lied.”
My brow lowered. “About what?”
“I think you do want to be wooed.” At my disbelieving scoff, he went on. “I think you want someone to be gentle with you, Ling. You just don’t know it, because you’ve never experienced that at that hands of a man.” When he stated, “You’ve been let down by men, myself included, and I’m sorry for that,” I wanted to unload my clip into him.
How dare he assume he knew me?
How dare he be partly right?
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.
What did he want me to say to that?
He didn’t say a word as he placed the rose into my hand. I held it tightly, needing to feel the sharp sting of its thorns in my palms to break through the inner turmoil I felt.
Aslan walked backward, away from me, and I wanted him back. Before he left, he uttered, “You look beautiful in the moonlight.”
When he was gone, I shut the door behind me and put my back to it. I wanted to be unaffected, but I never had been, not with Aslan. I loathed that he somehow knew that.
“Fuck.” I looked down at the pretty rose and my heart jolted.
Jesus Christ, Ling.
What are you doing?
Oh, no.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was falling in love.
Chapter Eight
Lexi
It was so good to be working again. I mean, it wasn’t paid work, but it was still something I was passionate about, and if I could help even one person, then I was good. Truth was, I didn’t need the money. I had more than I knew what to do with. Untraceable checks still came monthly to this day. But my time was something I could give to people who needed it.
I volunteered for a non-profit organization that did house checks on people suffering with depression, mental illness, suicidal thoughts, and a number of other mental disorders.
Walking to the door, I knocked, and when the woman answered the door, I smiled. “Hello. I’m Lexi Ballentine. We spoke on the phone.”
The woman nodded but didn’t move to open the door any wider.
“Can I come in?” When she watched me carefully, I said politely, “Or I can stay out here. That’s okay too.” I looked down at my notes. “It’s Gianna, isn’t it?”
She nodded, choosing to remain silent, and that was fine. I could carry a conversation on my own; I didn’t need help.
I smiled softly. “That’s a pretty name. Are you Italian?”
At that, she spoke quietly. “My father was.” Then she asked, “You’re American?”
Got her.
All you needed was an in, and she gifted me that, bless her. “Yeah. I came to live here when I was twenty. Have you ever been to Italy before?”
She shook her head, and I couldn’t help but notice how gaunt she looked.
“Is it okay if I ask you a few questions, Gianna?”
She didn’t look happy but said, “That’s fine.”
I made sure to speak in quiet tones. I didn’t want to rattle her anymore than she clearly was. “When’s the last time you ate, honey?”
The lean woman licked her lips. “Yesterday, I think.”
I think.
“I only ask because I have some groceries in my trunk.” I laid my sympathetic eyes on her. “I know how daunting it can be to go shopping when you suffer from anxiety.” I really did. I spent the first year of A.J.’s precious life suffering from anxiety, and I had attacks more often than not. “Do you need anything? I have the basics. Bread, milk, cereal, eggs.”
God, she looked ready to burst into tears, and when she spoke, it was barely a whisper. “Yes, please.”
I closed the clipboard. “Be right back.”
Opening the trunk of my car, I took out a few calico bags and loaded them up. When I carried them over, I was pleasantly surprised when Gianna opened the door all the way. I took her unspoken invitation and headed inside. The moment I stepped inside, I came to recognize why she didn’t want me in her house.
It was a mess.
Ignoring the clutter, I walked on through to the kitchen, and said, “In here okay?”
The smell was bad.
When Gianna followed me into the kitchen, she watched as I unloaded the groceries and hugged herself, making her look even smaller than she was. “I’ve been meaning to clean up.”