Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“It looked like you had a good thing going there, so I wasn’t sure if I should cut in. Who am I to stand in the way of a nice, old fashioned spit-roasting?”
“Ha! In their dreams.”
I held the door for him, and once we were outside, I handed my ticket to the valet. While we waited for the car, he asked, “So, do I get to know your name? Or are you cultivating a whole man of mystery vibe to impress me?”
I produced a business card and handed it over as I said, “I’m Adriano Dombruso. My friends call me Reno.”
He barely glanced at the card. Instead, he pinched it and ran his thumb over the surface. I almost laughed. He was checking out the paper quality and feeling for the embossing. He might as well have asked for my bank balance at that point, since that little move was clearly meant to gauge how successful I was. Maybe my five-thousand-dollar bespoke suit was too subtle. In fact, it probably was. I’d selected the top quality, black wool fabric not for flash but for substance.
He stuck the card in his pocket and shook my hand. “Jack O’Donnell. Why is your nickname a tacky little city in Nevada?”
“It started because my kid brother Romy couldn’t say my name when he was a toddler. The best he could do was Reno, and somehow it stuck. I like it, because it makes me think of him.”
“Sounds like you two are close.”
“We are, and I couldn’t be prouder of him. He’s an EMT back home in Vegas, and all about helping others. The kid’s basically a saint.” Not that he’d asked, but I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to brag about my baby brother.
Those intelligent green eyes held my gaze as he teased, “And what about you, Reno? Are you a saint, too?”
I smirked and told him, “No, Jack, I’m definitely a sinner. Once we get to my apartment, I intend to illustrate that point vividly and repeatedly.”
He raised a well-groomed brow. “Repeatedly? You sure your mouth isn’t writing checks your dick can’t cash?”
That little brat. “What are you suggesting, that I’m too old to get it up more than once?”
“I’m just saying, once a man hits forty, the plumbing isn’t always up to code.”
“I’m thirty-seven, thank you very much.”
“Apologies. That’s obviously a huge difference.”
“That smirk makes me want to put you over my knee. Just saying.”
“You love this smirk. It’s what drew you to me.”
He wasn’t wrong. “So, now you know how old I am. What about you?” He was going to lie about his age. I’d put money on it.
“You want to know how badly you’re robbing the cradle? I’m twenty-seven, Gramps.” He knit his brows at my snort and asked, “You don’t believe me?”
“Sorry, doll face, but you’re thirty-three if you’re a day.”
“You know what? Fuck you. I’m going to go see if I can get that spit roast back on track.” He was joking, but he was a little insulted, too. To make his point, he took a step toward the bar, and I caught his hand and pulled him back to me.
“It wasn’t meant as an insult. You’re a man, not a boy, and that’s a good thing.”
“Whatever. I’d already been considering Botox. I think you just made up my mind.”
“Don’t you dare.” I tilted his chin up with two fingertips and told him, “This face is a work of art. You don’t fuck with something so beautiful.”
He frowned as he met my gaze. “You think you can tell me what to do?”
“I doubt anybody can. But maybe someone should try.”
Before he could reply, the valet joined us and said, “Pardon me, Mr. Russo. Your car is ready.”
After I thanked the kid and slipped him a twenty, Jack turned toward my ride and exclaimed, “You absolutely ancient prehistoric fossil! Of course this is what you drive!”
I grinned at that and ran my gaze down the length of the convertible as I informed him, “This gem is a 1962 Cadillac De Ville. If you say one bad thing about her, I’m driving off without you.” It really was gorgeous—about a mile long with a pristine black paint job, white wall tires, and a red leather interior.
“No, don’t do that. I’ll asphyxiate in a thick, black cloud of exhaust fumes if I’m standing here while you drive off. What does this get, a mile a gallon? Every time you turn the key in the ignition, you can probably hear polar bears weeping.”
I walked over to the car and shot him a look as I opened the passenger door. “So, are you going to stand there and rant, or are you going to get in my gas guzzling, ozone depleting relic and come home with me, so I can fuck you into oblivion?”