Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I can’t believe he tried to use money as an excuse to keep me in the dark. He said I only wanted to know why he kidnapped me so I could extract cash from him. The questions won’t stop bouncing around my head. Before the graffiti, before anything, he was there. He was watching me. It’s like he wanted me even before my flight took off from the East Coast, but how?
Later, I go into the kitchen and find the cupboards and the refrigerator empty. A note’s on the fridge, call for supplies, with a cell phone number attached. A British woman answers when I call the number.
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “I was wondering if I could get some groceries?”
“Of course, ma’am,” she replies. “Do you have a list? We can get anything you’d like.”
Okay, this is all just plain craziness, but I must admit, it’s pretty neat too.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Thomas
“Jesus, Tommy,” George says, tossing a tennis ball from hand to hand as he leans back in his office chair. “That’s quite the story.”
I pace up and down in front of his desk. I feel like Loki when he hasn’t played fetch in a few days, which is rare—full of frantic energy with nowhere to go.
“So this Oliver, who is he, exactly?”
I knew George and Oliver around the same time, but they never met each other. George doesn’t know what happened: the gunshots, the guilt, the regret, the wish for it all to fade away.
“Someone from my past. Blames me for a fuckup.”
George leans forward, clearly wanting to know more, but when I don’t offer anything, he doesn’t ask. We’ve been friends long enough for him to know when I’m going to share something and when I’m not.
“All right, and you haven’t told Amelia about your crush?”
I turn to him quickly, suddenly filled with savage intent. My heart is pounding. My temples pulse.
“It’s not a crush,” I growl. “It’s more than that. She belongs to me, George. I don’t care how mad it sounds.”
Mad makes me think of how Amelia smiled—like she didn’t even realize she was smiling—when I said British mad.
“I knew it the second I saw her.”
“On video.”
“Yeah.”
George puts the tennis ball down, steepling his fingers. “I’ve never seen you like this before, but locking her up in your flat—”
“She’s not locked up,” I snap. “She’s in the office now. I got word from my driver earlier. She’s got her cell phone on her. She could call the police, her family, or anybody, but she chooses not to because she knows I’m right. We have a connection.”
“So why not just tell her the truth, then?”
“I could walk up to any random woman on the street and, as long as they knew who I was, I could tell them, I’ve been watching you. I think you’re beautiful. I want to be with you forever, and you know what, George? Lots of them would jump at the chance for the money alone.”
“You want her to want you for you.”
“I want her to want us for us. The future. A family. All of it.”
George sighs, nodding. “I get it, mate, but she deserves answers.”
Walking over to the desk, I force myself to sit. Every second I spend on my feet is another second I’m closer to turning, sprinting for the lift, and riding it down to Amelia’s floor to get another look at her. I couldn’t sleep last night because thoughts of her filled my mind.
Not just the steaminess—though there was plenty of that—but with visions of the future, too. My woman is sitting by a sunlit window, our baby in her arms, rocking softly, with me watching, not letting her know I’m there right away, basking in love.
“What if I tell her the truth, and she wants nothing to do with me?”
“That’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
I groan but nod.
“What about the other thing?” he asks. “The graffiti… This Oliver bloke trying to blackmail you and his criminal friends?”
“I’ve beefed up security,” I tell him, “on Amelia and me. You ought to do the same.”
“Will do, but don’t you think we should contact the police?”
“They won’t be able to do anything about a bit of graffiti. There are other options. We could pay people to force them to back off. Maybe it will come to that, but in the meantime, I’ve got work to do.”
“Think about what I said. She deserves—”
“The truth. I know.”
I meant what I said. I’ve got a lot of work to do today, but as I ride the lift down, it stops on Amelia’s floor, and somebody gets in. I don’t decide to dart out of the lift, exactly. It’s more like my feet carry me that way before I can even think about it. People watch me as I walk across the office floor while pretending to be busy with their work.