Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Devils Advocate here,” he said, resting his arms on the table and leaning forward toward me, creating a little intimacy to try to make it easier for me to see his side. “If he’d attempted it, if he’d failed, and he realized that when you got a text out to him on your smartwatch, would it not make the most sense for him to do everything he could to make it seem like it couldn’t possibly be him?”
That was a perfectly sound argument.
But everything inside of me rebelled against it.
This was the guy who went shoe shopping with me, who tried to force me to go to the doctor when I didn’t want to, who’d helped me change my bloody gauze when I’d needed to have oral surgery done.
Yes, I paid him well.
But I would have paid him well even if he hadn’t done those things.
If he hated me enough to discard me like garbage, then why would he go above and beyond in all other areas?
“I see you trying to make it make sense,” Brock said, reaching out and placing a hand on my wrist. “But I need to remind you that people who’d do shit like this? They aren’t rational. What they’ve done or haven’t done won’t make any sort of sense.”
I was only half processing what he was saying.
What with his big hand on my wrist, and his thumb absentmindedly stroking, my system was trying to also process the surge of desire that bloomed within me.
“All I am saying is to really think about it. Go over it in your head. If after doing that, you conclude that it isn’t remotely possible, I’ll believe you. But you have to be objective.”
“Okay,” I agreed, nodding.
“And on safety standpoint, I have to ask.”
“God, what now?” I grumbled, yanking my hand away from him and resting it in my lap. I felt like my head was spinning. I needed to focus.
“Are you alone with Cam at any point during the day where something bad could happen?”
“No. I mean, we’re never really alone at work. And even the drive in, we have my driver. The only time we would have been alone would be if he came into the apartment.”
“But with me here, that’s not going to be a concern.”
“Exactly,” I agreed, glad to have a reason to have him around. On a rational, less hormone-driven level, anyway.
“That’s probably the crew,” Brock said when there was a buzz to my room.
After buzzing him up, I felt the need to turn and rush to put the food away, only to find that Brock had already done it.
“Brace yourself for Lennon,” Brock said as I reached for my glass of wine, taking another sip. “He can be a little intense.”
“Intense how?”
“Intense in the way that says he’s seen and heard all the crazy ass stories about shit that can happen in someone’s home if they don’t have it properly secured, so he is ultra-vigilant,” Brock explained. “He’s going to have a fucking field day with the balcony,” he added, shaking his head as he smirked.
“It’s a penthouse balcony,” I reminded him. “There’s not even a fire escape.”
“I guarantee you, he will have a story to strike the fear of God into you about it.”
Lennon, like Brock, screamed ex-military from the moment I laid eyes on him.
He was a giant of a man with dark skin, legs the size of tree trunks, and the biggest arms I’d ever seen.
He had a handsome face, all square jaw and a stern brow.
Everything about him was serious, but there was a slight kindness behind his brown eyes as well.
“Lennon, this is Miranda. Miranda, Lennon.”
“Miss Coulter,” Lennon said, giving me a handshake so firm I felt like my bones were crushing. That voice of his? So deep you could practically feel it reverberate through your chest when he spoke. “We need to talk about that balcony,” he said, making my head swivel in Brock’s direction, seeing his self-satisfied smile.
“Brock mentioned you would think it was problematic. I can’t imagine why. It’s a penthouse balcony with no access to lower levels.”
“It is, ma’am,” he said, nodding. “That does not mean that it is impenetrable. I have seen on more than one occasion, people in climbing gear or using window cleaning equipment, penetrate penthouse balconies.”
“I really don’t think anyone who is out to get me is anywhere near that highly trained,” I insisted.
“Ma’am, I am here for your safety. And I do not feel comfortable with your balcony or the access it has to your apartment,” he told me. “We can go over options to mitigate those dangers after my man here,” he said, waving to a guy who was loaded down with bags of equipment, “finishes setting up your cameras.”
“I thought you were exaggerating,” I told Brock as I moved in at his side while Lennon and his employee got to work, walking around my apartment, pointing to things with very grave faces.