Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Not on purpose,” I say. “It’s your nature to take control, and in case I’ve sent you confusing messages, I do want to be informed, but I feel immense relief to have you handling this situation for me.”
“I actually need to talk to you about your mother. Were you aware that she had a gambling problem?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “But isn’t that just perfectly priceless. That’s where the money went, isn’t it?”
“That’s where this seems to be headed,” he says.
“And here I thought her only destructive vice was sex.”
“Sex is not a vice.”
“It is when you’re married and fucking half the state,” I say. “Unless, of course, my father liked to watch her with other men, as she claimed. In which case, he was more screwed up than her. I don’t know why I was hoping for her bank account to save me. I need to save myself.”
“You have me now, Faith.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying to get us to that.”
“Try harder. And just so you know, we should have the new evaluation by tomorrow. I’m meeting with my banker tomorrow to be ready to move the note, but I’m going to decide when to act based on how all the players are responding to the situation at the time.”
His intercom buzzes, and a female voice I assume to be Rita’s says, “Devon is melting down again. He’s on the line.”
“I’m not babysitting that stupid crybaby prick,” Nick bites out. “Feel free to tell him that.”
“Now that you got that off your chest,” the woman says. “What would you like for me to say to him?”
“Whatever the hell you want to tell him, Rita.”
“You’re in a deposition,” she says. “Remember that.”
I laugh. “I like Rita.”
“She’s a pain in my ass today.”
“Isn’t everyone?”
“Yes, which is why I really need you here to fuck me into amnesia. I’d come over there and do a little artistic fucking with you, but I have a lunch thing I need to prep for. Think of me, sweetheart. I’m damn sure thinking of you.” He ends the call, and I laugh, but it fades quickly.
I really want to end this nightmare with the bank. I need to do something other than wait on Nick to be my hero. I inhale and tell myself to make the call I know I need to make. Only I don’t even know the number to call. I turn to the MacBook sitting on the desk and key it to life, looking up Pier 111, the business my uncle’s wife founded that he helps run. Finding the main number, I punch it into my cellphone.
“Pier 111, can I help you?”
“I need Bill Winter, please,” I say.
“May I ask who is calling?”
“Faith Winter.”
“Hold, please.” A few beats later, she returns. “He’ll call you back. What number can he call you back on?”
I give her my cellphone number and end the call. Why did I even bother to make that call? He’s a bastard. My cellphone starts to ring with a call from an unknown number.
Expecting it to be him, I answer. “Hello.”
“Faith. What a surprise that you called. We’ve needed to talk.”
I open my mouth to ask him about the bank and the value of the winery when it hits me. He’s a bastard. He could try to take it as well. My mind races for a reason for this call.
“Faith?” he presses. “Is something wrong?”
“I had a dream last night,” I blurt.
“About?”
“You. My mother claimed that my father liked to watch her with other men. Last night I dreamed that you were one of those men. Were you?”
Chapter Twenty
Faith
He didn’t say no.
That’s what haunts me for the rest of the afternoon while I sit at my desk evaluating the files Sara gave me. Even after Sara and I dine on Chinese food and enjoy great conversation, I replay it again. And now, at nearly five o’clock, I do it all over again.
“My mother claims that my father liked to watch her with other men. Last night I dreamed that you were one of those men. Were you?”
“Sex is what put us at opposite ends of the world,” he says. “We’re the only Winters left. We need to put the past behind us.”
“That’s a yes,” I say.
“That’s a refusal to discuss my sex life with my niece. How are things at the winery?”
“We are not friends or family,” I say. “I have zero desire to discuss my life with you. I simply wanted to know if you and my father were both sick enough to share my mother. That simple. I got my answer. What I don’t understand is why my father was upset when he found out you fucked her on your own. I mean, what difference does it make? You know what. This was a mistake.”
My phone buzzes, pulling me back to the present, and I glance down to find a message from Nick: Client losing his fucking mind. I’ll be another two hours. I’ll bring home dinner.