Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I didn’t even know he was dating anyone.
There’s a lot about Nate I don’t know.
Like why he would tell me Win had a towel warmer when he clearly doesn’t. At first, I’d thought about that text last night from Winston and wondered what it meant, but after some thought, I realized it was Win’s way of telling me he thought I was lying. But it wasn’t me. It was Nate. Why? About something so dumb? Nate rubs me the wrong way. He’s slick—too slick. My gaze slides to his drawer. After a quick look to make sure he’s not standing in the doorway, I open the drawer, unsure what I’ll find. Inside are a few ink pens, some business cards, rubber bands, and his keys.
Two keys and a fob.
The fob goes to a BMW. The other two seem like they could be an office key and an apartment key. I study the apartment one and decide it’s most definitely not the same as Win’s.
“Hmm.”
“Looking for something?” Nate asks, his voice nearly a growl.
“Chewing gum,” I say, tossing the keys back into the drawer. “Nothing.”
He sets his phone down and sits back down in his chair. His hand covers mine, pushing the drawer closed but not letting go. “Don’t touch my things, Ash.”
The chilly words make me shiver but I manage a nod.
He releases me and gets back to work, business as usual. I try to focus on what he’s teaching me but my mind can’t let go of those keys. Did Win take his key back from him? I make a mental note to ask Win when he’s not being pissy with me.
At least an hour passes by without incident until someone bursts through the office door. Of all the people I expect to see, it’s not Dad. His face is red with anger and worry shines in his eyes.
“Ash,” he growls. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I leap to my feet and rush over to him. Dad catches me in his embrace, hugging me tight. Tears prickle at my eyes but I blink them back. Now’s not the time to cry. Not in front of stupid Nate.
“What in the ever-loving hell is going on?” Dad demands. “If Constantine was here, I’d put my fucking fist through his face.”
“Would you now?” Nate practically snarls. “Perhaps I should call security.”
“He’s joking,” I snap at Nate. “I’m taking a break.”
Tugging from Dad’s hold, I grab my purse and motion for Dad to follow me. We leave Nate’s office and I guide him to the employee lounge where people aren’t yet milling about with their microwaved lunches.
Once we’re out of earshot, I motion for a table and take a seat. Dad’s expression is haggard. Guilt trickles through me. He was up all night dealing with the triplets’ fiasco and now he’s dealing with mine. Talk about a double whammy.
“I’m sorry,” I croak out, unable to look him in the eyes. “It’s a really long story.”
“And I have time,” Dad urges. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip before just letting it all spill out. Everything. The maid job that I got caught slacking on. How I grabbed Win’s attention. Our games, though not so detailed. The triplets and their scary threats and actions. Leo Morelli and what happened the night of Win’s birthday ball. I even tell him about my spa day with Caroline and the dinner last night, though I conveniently leave out what Winston did to the triplets. By the time I finish explaining the drama that has been my life, his face is stony and unreadable.
“Dad,” I whisper. “I know I screwed up but—”
“Don’t.”
I swallow hard, fighting against the tears in my eyes.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “I thought you were more like me,” he says, a tired smile on his face, “but it seems drama finds you much like your mother.”
Hearing about Mom has my chest aching painfully. “I’m like you.”
“Stubborn like me, yes. But that ability to get yourself into crazy shit? That has Maggie written all over it.”
I’m curious to hear this new side about Mom. Dad always painted her as a saint to me. I was eight when she died so my memories are fuzzy. All I remember are humor-filled hazel eyes and the softest brown hair. She had smile lines that I thought were pretty. Her voice was enchanting. God, I miss her.
“I once had to bail her out of jail,” Dad says, chuckling.
“What for?” My eyes are wide with shock. This is a first.
“Public indecency.”
“No.”
“Yes. I mean, it was my fault.” He winks at me. “But she’s the one who got caught since it was on the hood of the car I was inside.”
“Dad! Oh my God!”
“My point is your mother had a wild streak.” His smile falls. “It was why your grandmother disinherited her. Well, that, and she married below her class.”