Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
I burst into unexpected laughter at his silliness. With a grin, he picked up his scotch, sipping it.
“Laughter and a smile. Epic day,” he said. He held up his book. “A biography. Pretty dull, actually.”
We were quiet for a moment.
“Why did you have a knife?” I asked. “I saw a gun too.”
“I’m always armed when on the job.”
I frowned. “There was nothing on the schedule last night.”
“I was doing a private job.”
“You do those a lot?”
“Yes.”
“You beat him up badly.”
“He deserved it,” he said, his tone firm.
“Is he…dead?”
He gaped at me. “Why would you ask me a thing like that?”
“Your face in the back alley. You were so—” I shook my head, unable to find the right words. “You looked lethal. Dangerous.”
He frowned and stayed quiet, as if contemplating his words. Then he shook his head.
“No. He’s in police custody.”
My heartbeat picked up. “Will I-will I have to testify?”
“No. I took care of it. They’re holding him on other charges. His little group of friends is effectively done. He won’t be out for a while, and their clubhouse was raided. They’re all up on charges, singing like birds to try to protect themselves and get a deal.” He snorted. “Not an ounce of loyalty among them, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
I had to agree. I gazed at him in wonder. He was always a step ahead on everything. Thought of everything, it seemed.
“Thank you,” I breathed out, wanting him to know how grateful I was.
His next words shocked me, though.
“I’m hiring you full time.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you going back to that bar.”
I shook my head. “Julian, you can barely keep me busy three days a week, never mind the fourth you already added.”
He shrugged, pulling on my feet and placing them on his lap. “I’ll find other duties for you. I hate budget stuff. You can handle that. Plus, you can help Leo. And you can use the time to work on school stuff.”
“You can’t pay me to take courses.”
“Stop arguing with me. It’s happening.”
I crossed my arms. “Julian—”
He locked stares with me, neither of us willing to back down.
“You can’t pay me for doing nothing. I’m not a charity case.”
“I never said you were. Don’t put words in my mouth.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Listen, I can’t let you go back to the bar. I doubt any of them would come around there again, but I can’t risk it. You’re safe in my building. You can work, do your schoolwork—” he flung out his hand “—clean this place every week if it makes you feel better, but that is what has to happen.”
“I’m not your responsibility.”
In a second, he was beside me on the sofa, crowding me into the corner. “That’s where you’re wrong. You became my responsibility the second you walked into my office. You became my friend the moment you chose to care for me and sat up all night watching over me.” His voice softened and became low and husky. “You became mine the instant my lips touched yours and you let me into your sweet body. So, you can’t tell me not to worry or think that we can go back to the way things were before this weekend.” He cupped my face and kissed me. Long, slow, and passionately. “Because that is not happening. I’m not fighting it anymore. You’re mine, so get used to it.”
He kissed me again and picked up his book but didn’t move away. He kept his hold tight on my legs as if I would run away.
I could barely move in shock at his little speech. I should be jumping up and telling him off. Refusing him. Being involved with him was dangerous. I needed to tell him no.
Instead, I muttered, “Bossy much?” under my breath.
He squeezed my legs. “You love it.”
“Shocked with all that oozy, subtle charm, you’re still single.” I sniffed. “Lucky me.”
He chuckled. “Grumble all you want. It’s still happening.”
I shut up.
Because, really, I rather liked being his—at least so far.
Later that night, we lay in his big, comfortable bed, a lamp in the corner casting its dim glow across the room. It had started to rain earlier, the sound of the water hitting the glass a low noise in the background. We faced each other, his hand on my hip, his other arm tucked under his head, mimicking my position. Dinner had been another takeout, and when I questioned Julian about his fairly empty cupboards, he shrugged dismissively.
“My schedule is erratic. Plus, I don’t cook well, so it’s easier to do takeout.”
“That’s something I could do. I’m a decent cook. I could shop and make you meals. Easy stuff you can reheat. Plus, you should keep some things on hand. Soup, that sort of thing.”
He had kissed my forehead, smiling. “Whatever you think.”