Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
My mother takes a sip of her coffee, a small smile edging her lips, encouraging me to continue, “When Rya said she wasn’t going to marry Crue, you allowed it. So why can’t I have the same sense of freedom and choice?”
And despite what happened between them, they still got married.
But that isn’t the point.
“What about your life back home? Your friends? The extravagant events you enjoy?”
A bubble of laughter creeps up, and my father looks at me as if he doesn’t even recognize me. “I’ve never enjoyed those events. And my friends with their superficial tendencies? The friends that you strategically placed for me as a child? I have made only one friend here. And Daphne is worth more than all those “so-called friends” back home.” I use air quotes to get my point across.
I knew my life had been set up for me, but I didn’t realize to what extent until I came to New York.
“So either you support me. Or you leave.”
My father’s brows knit together, and I feel my stomach drop. He isn’t a man to be pushed. And the consequence of him dragging me back against my will is an incredibly real and palpable possibility.
“Chasing the American dream,” my father grumbles under his breath.
I stand from my chair and crouch in front of him. “No, Papa, I’m just finding out who I am. And if this place allows me to do that right now, then this is where I need to be. I’m not saying I’ll be here forever. But for now, I want to stay.”
My father tries to avoid my gaze, which is extremely uncharacteristic. But I edge my head back into his line of sight, and he sighs. “I’ve been given stubborn girls. It’s a blessing and a curse.”
My mother chuckles as she sets down her coffee, and I know I’ve won.
Just a little for now.
But a weight feels like it’s left me.
Another shackle undone.
“I still don’t like him,” he grumbles.
I pat his hand. “Yes, Papa, because he’s pretty,” I say with a smile as I stand to grab the cookies I baked yesterday to accompany our coffee.
CHAPTER 49
Dawson
My knee is bouncing, and I don’t even realize it until Lesley takes a pointed look over her phone. I stop immediately. We’re sitting in a restaurant where I’ve just met with a potential collaborator. I intend to create a new line of luxury sex toys. With all the shit that is happening, including having no clear identification on the bastard who’s messing with my business, my mind can only keep going back to Honey. The dinner with her parents had been a total clusterfuck, and if I’m being entirely honest, I’ve never been in a position where I couldn’t sway or charm someone. But Mr. Ricci is on a different fucking level, and Lord forbid someone come between him and his girls.
“That went well then,” Lesley says as she eyes a few prototypes lined up on the table. I grab the polished gold anal beads thoughtfully. I wonder how many Honey could take.
“Very,” I reply absentmindedly.
I’m growing impatient that we haven’t yet identified the stranger who had hovered around the estate taking photographs the night of the event. The car he used was later found abandoned.
I’m not getting any closer.
I’m frustrated.
And annoyed.
“Do you have a name in mind for the new line? I’ll start putting everything in place and bring the final contracts to you once I’m done.”
“Mr. Taylor,” Henry intrudes. He shoots a glance at the toys on the table, and his throat bobs. No wonder my girls tease him so much. “I found something on… well, you know… that person.”
He sounds coy, but no one else is in the room. Lesley slides over to the edge of the booth, so she’s looking over my shoulder. I wave him over and he hands me his phone.
“I’ve continued tracking him since he staked out your place and abandoned the car. I was able to track through security cameras that, eventually, he took the night ferry. So I thought it might be a good idea to flick through the cameras from the last month to see if it’s a regular occurrence. That maybe he’s not from these parts,” he says.
I swipe through the various images with different dates of him boarding the ferry.
“I still can’t get a clear image of his face. He’s good at avoiding the cameras. And he always wears more coverage around his face after he’s approached our members with beanies, hats, stuff like that. But since he’s not from here, I was able to track the general area he lives in through street security. It’s harder though, because the security cameras really begin to dwindle in that area. But I’ve narrowed it down.”
My finger stops on a picture of the man leaving the ferry. My eyebrows scrunch as I zoom in as best as the graphics allow before pixelation. Henry stops talking as he looks at what I’m so intently studying.