Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Leeches suck all the blood they can get, and they latch on to those closest to them, draining them before they realize it's too late."
My throat constricted as a tense moment passed between the brothers. They stared at each other, Kane’s lip curled, Knox’s nostrils flaring. I hated knowing that someone so obviously fake, a manipulator, was a thorn in the side of a relationship so powerful.
But Kane just smiled, yet once again, it seemed a little forced. He clamped his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
I didn’t miss the way Knox stiffened at the simple contact.
“We’ve gotta get you a woman, bro. So we can get you off blood and leeches and on to fucking in a bathroom and feeling like you could take on the fucking world.”
And just like that, the tension broke.
Though I got the sense the battle wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
The evening went great. One could almost say I enjoyed myself, especially with the sojourn in the form of the quickie in the bathroom with a party full of guests a few rooms away.
Yes, it was out of my element, but Kane was at my side, and Kiera was there too, fluttering like the social butterfly she was while also keeping a sharp eye on me should I need rescuing.
Kiera was a dreamer at heart, but she had also told me, “White knights are bullshit. The people who will save you are your girlfriends.”
Although she accepted Kane, though she liked me being in a relationship so far out of my comfort zone, she was protective, as the conversation earlier had communicated. She didn’t trust easily, especially not men.
I didn’t think I did either, yet there I was, throwing my everything into Kane, into his world.
That was not me.
Though I was enjoying the vacation from being Avery Hart, the talented chef with the ice queen reputation.
Except you couldn’t take vacations from yourself, especially if you had any brush with celebrity.
Knox had left shortly after our meeting. Before leaving, he told me, “I’m glad you’re with my brother,” nodding sincerely. “Finally, he’s made a good choice. I’m hoping he doesn’t fuck it up.”
I took that as Knox giving me his blessing. I felt strangely proud.
Kane had many friends, all of whom seemed fun, chaotic and ready for a good time. All of them were welcoming to me, with an air of almost amusement, as if they were used to entertaining Kane’s flavor of the month.
We were speaking to Cleo Locke, one of the few female motocross riders in the sport who was really making a name for herself. She was an enigma with her pixie cut and delicate features. In her pretty, flowing, pastel dress paired with combat boots and arms full of tattoos. Her energy was warm, welcoming.
Kane hadn’t even introduced me properly before her eyes lit up with recognition.
“I know you! It’s been at the edge of my mind since you arrived,” Cleo snapped her fingers. “You worked as Gerald DuBois’s protegee.”
My smile froze on my face, and my body turned rigid.
“I know now, of course, that you have your own very famous restaurant and are a force of nature, but I ate at his restaurant in Paris—fucking loved it—then bought his book because I love biographies, and you’re mentioned in it,” she gushed. “You’re one of his proudest accomplishments.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, the man can cook and did great things in the culinary world ,blah, blah, blah,” she flapped her hands. “But really, a man taking credit for a woman’s achievements… Aren’t we past that?” She shook her head, unaware that I had stopped breathing.
I didn’t dare look at Kane. The second I’d gone still, his grip had tightened around me, and his head had tilted downward in my direction. He’d already clocked my reaction on body language alone—I wouldn’t give him my face.
“I stopped reading the book there and then,” Cleo continued. “And then I tried to find your book, but you don’t have one, and you have very few published articles and pictures of yourself, hence the fact that it took me a hot minute to put a face to the name. Anyway, a long-winded way of saying I’m a big fan. I’ve only had the pleasure of eating your food at Gerald’s restaurant, but Inferno is on my bucket list. If my schedule can ever line up with a reservation.”
My mouth had gone dry. I forced my hand upward so I could take a sip of my drink before speaking. “We’ll exchange numbers.” I hoped my voice didn’t betray anything. “You can tell me when you’re in town, and I can see if I can make something work to get you in for a meal.”
It was not something I normally, if ever, did—yielded my power in order to get people into the restaurant. One, because I didn’t like it, and two, because if I set any kind of precedent, people wouldn’t leave me alone.