Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“That’s good.” I clear my throat and hand him over the information sheet from the folder. “The monthly income for this location looks great even during the slower months, and more and more events are happening in Nashville on a regular basis, so I’d say you’d be in the green within….” My sentence trails off when a small, cold hand lands on my shoulder, and Maxim comes out of his relaxed position.
Turning in my seat, I tip my head back and bite back a curse. If I were a superhero, Lexi would without a doubt be my archnemesis. I’ve known her for years, because her aunt, who is beyond talented, has designed every single one of my tattoos, but she hasn’t changed in that time. She is one of those women who is catty, loud, and annoying as hell, which is why she goes through friends faster than she goes through men. Life for her is a competition. She wants what other people have and still hasn’t figured out that’s exactly why she is so miserable.
“I thought that was you.” Lexi smiles at me before looking over the top of my head at Maxim, giving him a onceover that states clearly she likes what she sees. “Who’s your friend?”
“Not interested,” he says simply, and I fight back a smile as she laughs, tossing her long, lavender mixed with blond hair over her shoulder.
“Easy, big boy. Just curious about April’s new friend.” She looks back at me. “I haven’t seen you out much lately.”
“I’ve been busy with work.”
“Yeah, I heard you got into real estate. Good for you.” She looks at Maxim once more, and I can tell by the baffled expression she tries to hide that he’s not giving her the attention she is used to. Knowing her, she thought him telling her he wasn’t interested was actually his way of telling her he was. “Well, I’m going to take off. You guys have fun tonight.”
“You too.” I watch her walk away, then start to turn back to Maxim but freeze when I see Brock, Cohen’s brother, walk into the bar, looking exactly like I remember. Which is just like his twin brother. The only thing making them distinguishable is the scar that slices through Brock’s left brow.
“Shit.” I whisper under my breath because if Brock is here, then Cohen isn’t far behind.
“You wanna get out of here?” Maxim asks, touching the base of my neck, the warmth of his palm making me shiver, and I spin around to face him and the table not even having to think about that question.
“That sounds like a great idea.” I grab my bag, and as soon as I stand, he takes my hand and keeps me close as he cuts across the room to the main entrance.
“My car is around back.” I stop him when we get outside and attempt to wiggle my fingers free from his.
“Is it safe where it is?”
“Yes, or I hope so.”
“Then I’m driving.” He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and lets go of my hand so he can place his palm against my lower back and lead me to the curb, where a sleek silver car is parked. “Get in,” he orders as the driver and passenger doors swing up into the air. I look from him to his car, then let out a breath and climb into the seat.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he gets in behind the wheel, the car seeming like it was built just for him.
“My hotel.”
“The bar at your hotel.”
“We can start there.” He meets my gaze as he turns over the engine, and my body vibrates. I tell myself it’s from the rumble of the engine and not anticipation.
When we arrive at the Noelle Hotel, I notice there are tons of people gathered out front, all dressed in evening wear.
“There was a wedding here today,” he tells me as he pulls into the valet area, and a few minutes later, he walks around to help me out, then hands his keys over to a young guy, telling him to be careful. As we walk inside, I smile when I spot a bride and groom standing amongst their guests, waiting to get onto the elevator. “Bar’s this way.” He takes hold of my wrist and walks us past the reception area toward the bar, which is crowded. “What would you like to drink?”
“A glass of Pinot please,” I say, and he lets me go and—maybe not surprisingly—gets the attention of the pretty bartender within seconds of reaching the counter.
“Are you here with the bride or the groom?” I drag my attention off Maxim at that question, and with one look, I can tell the man who asked me that has already had too much to drink. Pink is staining the tip of his nose and cheeks, making him look like a little kid who’s been out in the cold too long.