Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Not a bad idea.” He grins and flashes me the fucking dimples, and I tell him to put them away because that shit doesn’t work on me.
“Alright.” He tosses me some hand wrap thingies and says, “let’s do this.”
After showing me how to wrap my hands, he dives into professor mode. But professors aren’t supposed to be like Rory and he’s too close and he keeps cracking jokes about how he’s coming for my ass and my tits or whatever. He gropes me and I’m not learning anything other than I’m not capable of learning when there are hormones involved.
I have no focus.
I shouldn’t even be here with him right now, wrestling around on mats and listening to his dirty talk/self-defense.
I should be at home, determining how to take down Alexander. Because it’s evident that I’m not going to tell him. That for once in the last decade of my life, I’m going to do right by someone.
And I have no fucking clue why.
“Sweetheart, ye aren’t even paying attention,” Rory says. “I’d have killed ye about three times by now if this were real.”
“Just show me what I need to do to inflict the maximum damage,” I insist.
He frowns and then says the worst thing he could say to me.
“Scarlett, what’s wrong?”
I glance around the gym, and people are staring at us. At me. Like I’m an uppity bitch and I shouldn’t even be here.
I know they’re right.
I just wish Rory would figure that out.
“I have to go,” I tell him.
He follows me out the door and stops me.
“Why do ye always have to do this?”
“Do what?” I snap.
“Ye’re always trying to pick a fight with me just when something good happens.”
“Nothing good has happened,” I argue. “Since you’ve come into my life, everything is fucked up. It’s all wrong.”
“Fine, Scarlett,” he sighs and turns away from me. “That’s just fine. Go on and run along then. Do whatever it is ye need to do to convince yourself that this is wrong.”
“I will.”
I turn to go, but he grabs me by the arm. And I know he means what he says this time.
“And next time ye want to come and play with me?” he says. “Don’t.”
He slams the door in my face and leaves me standing out there on the street.
Alone.
And as it turns out, I’m not broken and some things do change.
I feel.
I feel like hell.
Whiskey is in his own special sort of mood today, following me down the hall and meowing incessantly.
“I don’t have time for your shit too,” I tell him. “It’s bad enough that I’ve caught feelings for one asshole. I don’t need you on that list as well.”
He doesn’t care, apparently, because he’s a fucking cat, and so the keening continues.
I give in and pet him before telling him to bugger off. Still, he persists. All the way to my door, berating me in cat speak. I’m not fluent myself, but even I know when he’s pissy about something.
I tell him to join the club before I open the door to my apartment and gesture him inside, but he won’t go.
“Fine, suit yourself,” I say. “All you men are the same.”
And then I shut the door behind me.
Only to have my head slammed into the wall.
Twenty-One
Rory
I find myself at Slainte, the way most of the single lads do in their down time.
The whiskey is flowing, and the girls put on a good show up on stage, and everything’s the same as it always is.
Only I’m restless as fuck.
“Got anything for me, boss?” I ask Crow.
“Nah, mate,” he answers. “Why don’t ye take the night off.”
I’d much rather be bloodying up my knuckles to take the edge off, but I don’t say so. Niall was quick to warn Crow I could be hot headed, and I don’t need him second guessing me now.
Least of all over a woman.
My eyes land on Conor and something else occurs to me.
“Come with me, lad,” I tell him. “I need your help.”
“Can’t, mate,” he says.
“Since fucking when?” I bark.
He nods across the bar and there’s the same blonde he had eyes for at the fight. Ivy. The one I brought home to torment and test him.
I like the lad, and he deserves to get his kicks too, every now and again.
He hasn’t been with a woman since his last girl went and overdosed on him. So even though I’m in a cunt of a mood, I’ve no intentions of ruining his night as well.
“Go on then,” I tell him. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Catchya later,” he says.
And then it’s just me, and Crow, who’s giving me the side eye again.
“Thought I gave ye the night off.”
“I need to speak with that Russian fella. Alexei. Can ye give me his number?”
“I could,” Crow says. “But he’s out of the country. So whatever business ye have with him will have to wait.”