Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Connor, mate, I was trying to protect her,” I’d pleaded. “Like you said I should.”
“By fucking her yourself?” he’d demanded with such disgust.
“You said to make sure she didn’t end up with someone like us.” My tone was beseeching as I tried so hard to make him understand.
“I’m pretty sure I said someone like you,” Connor growled, his wings beginning to flap like an angry swan. I probably have the boat trip to The Serpentine to thank for that.
“Yeah.” Saint Peter sounded like a wheedling, snot-nosed kid from a teen movie, not like heaven’s doorman or all-powerful security detail. “Connor has already made the right side of the gates. Meanwhile, you’re out here,” he’d taunted. “What do you think that means?”
“That I’m dead?”
“If you’re not, you will be,” Connor snarled. “You were supposed to protect her, not fuck her.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” I pleaded. “I’m not like me anymore. She makes me want to be a better man.”
Then he punched me.
To be honest, I would’ve punched me too for that line. In my dream, I’d tumbled from heaven like the devil himself. I could feel myself falling, falling, before coming back to myself in my bed with a hypnic jerk. Heart pounding, eyes on stalks and straining to see in the dark. But then Mimi had snuffled next to me, murmuring something about cupcakes being under the fridge. I’d wrapped her in my arms and ease had returned to me almost immediately. God, Saint Peter, Old Nick, Connor. They can all go fuck themselves as long as I get to keep this girl.
“The airport?” Mimi makes what feels like her tenth guess as George takes the turning for London City Airport.
“Yep, you got me. You’ve heard of train spotters, right? Well, I’m a plane spotter.”
“Do you spot them from the skies? You know, when you’re up there in your private jet.”
“The bank’s private jet.”
“The bank you’re the major shareholder in? So, kind of, sort of your private jet?”
“I’m not sure the rest of the shareholders would see it like that,” I say, turning my attention to the window. It’s pretty miserable out there. I hope the weather is nicer where we’re heading.
“Did you tell the front desk that Primrose and her friends were visiting today?”
“Yep,” I reply, popping the p. Mimi had given me a hard time about keeping my family from visiting. I hadn’t the heart to tell her most of them seem to have already guessed she’s staying with me. And more. Only Primrose and Lavender don’t seem to be aware, and Lavender only turns up when she wants something. She must have a new boyfriend, given I haven’t been called to pick her up from any police stations for a while.
At Mimi’s gasp, I turn my head.
“We are at the airport! Where are we going?”
“I’ll tell you.” Her smile widens. “When we get there.”
“Super swanky,” Mimi says as she wiggles her delectable bum in the cream leather upholstery.
“It beats the bus, right?”
“Oh, Mr. CEO, I think it’s been a while since you rode any bus.”
“True, but I still remember how they work. I also remember what it’s like not to be rolling in it.” I think that helps to keep me grounded.
“Well, I don’t know many rich people, but for what it’s worth, you’re my favorite.”
I laugh. “Such high praise.”
“I know, right? Oh, hello.” Mimi turns her face to the purser.
“Miss Valente, Mr. Whittington. Can I get you any refreshments this morning?”
“No thanks, Gwen,” I reply.
“I could go for a juice,” Mimi says.
Gwen runs through the juices available on the in-flight menu, providing me with the opportunity to watch Mimi. To observe the tiniest flickers of enjoyment across her face. She is so fucking beautiful but it’s not just in her looks. She radiates joy—is sunshine personified. And while I’m sure, like everyone, she has her dark moments, she never seems to let them get her down. But I hope there’s a time in the not-too-distant future when she’ll let me share those moments with her. When she’ll lean on me as part of her team. I’ll introduce her to people by saying this is Mimi, my better half. And she’ll laugh like she’s amused, but we’ll secretly know it’s true because we’ll both be part of the other, the way all the best couples are.
“Six types of juice is some kind of fancy,” she says as Gwen retreats. “And that’s not even including the tomato juice, which, although technically made from a fruit, should not be included in a selection of juices.”
“It has seeds. Therefore, it’s a juice.”
“You would think, right?”
“Know so.”
“Then you’d be wrong. Tomato juice should be something you reserve for spaghetti sauce.”
“I’m sure there’s a little bit of logic in there somewhere.”
“Don’t hate me because you’re wrong.”
“Mimi,” I say with a chuckle, “hell would freeze over before I could ever hate you.”