Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 40969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
“Pretty sure she’s not looking to do that, judging by what you’ve told me.” Probably not. Shit, he laughed his ass off when I told him what exactly went down in the garage days before. It’s funny from an outsider’s point of view. For me, not so much. I grab my phone out of my pocket, looking at the notification that’s on the screen. It’s Terry again, letting me know that shift change is complete, he’s off for tonight, and that Manny is available if I need anything. If I have my way, I won’t be staying tonight either, and maybe I’ll have a certain raven-haired beauty who wouldn’t mind coming home with me either. That is if I could clear this bullshit matter about her thinking I have a wife. For fuck’s sake, if I thought she’d think Journey was my wife, I would have cleared the air right then and there.
Jesus, like I’d ever be the type of person to attempt to stake a claim on Celeste if I had someone else in my corner. After backing out of the text message Terry sent me, I go to the app to check the security feed, my head down, and looking for the woman who has my dick tied in knots. The moment I secure her on the feed, I make quick work to get to her spa. It’s late. Celeste should be gone for the day, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. In fact, with the way her head is tipped down in the surveillance feed, she looks as if something has upset her.
“Shit.” My voice is louder than I wanted. The clerks at the desk in the lobby look at me like I’ve lost my mind. Technically, they aren’t wrong. What got me was that Celeste was in her spa, the cameras giving me a view of the front desk where she’s sitting, staring into the open space with a look of disappointment. I pocket my phone, nod at a couple of employees, then make my way to the spa. Celeste may have a passcode that works for her, but she doesn’t know that I do, too. And the second I get to her, I’ll be using it.
FIFTEEN
Celeste
The beeping of the door knocks me out of my stupor I’m currently in. I shouldn’t be; it’s not me who’s going through the turmoil as my best friend dropped her son off with his dad for the next three nights. It’s Tyra, and try as I might, she didn’t want me there for her. It sucked, God, it sucked so bad. My only hope is that Mace reneges on the deal they made and has to all of a sudden work.
“Jesus, what are you doing here, and why are you walking through my door?” I ask. It was either mope at home, worrying about Tyra and Von, or sit here and do it. What I’d love is to get lost in something other than misery. The feeling of being helpless sucks. It was heart wrenching to know Tyra was holding back tears while on the phone with me, and Von, I can’t even imagine how his night is going. Hopefully, Mace will take him to his parents’ house if nothing else fails.
“Me? Why are you sitting here in the dark? Fuck, Celeste, what’s wrong?” Wylde closes the door, locks it, and walks closer to me until he’s rounding the check-out counter. He is like the devil, only he’s in a tailored three-piece suit, Italian loafers, hair slicked back, and he looks about as upset as I feel.
“Isn’t that a loaded question. If it’s all the same to you, boss, I’d rather not get into another dispute, at least not on hotel property. Tongues are already wagging lately.” To be honest, that might be stretching the truth. It’s the weird looks some give me. Then there’s Melanie and Layla. I swear those two always have their heads together as if they’re scheming something, acting like high school dingbats, if you ask Tyra.
“It seems we need to clear the air about a lot, including you thinking people are talking about our relationship,” Wylde states. I swivel in my chair. His knees press against mine, and once again, I’m pondering why I’m allowing him to get close to me, especially when he cups my cheek, lifting my face up to look into his eyes.
“Newsflash, we don’t have a relationship. You’re married, remember?” This guy, sure, he’s got it going on, not enough that I’d knowingly touch another woman’s man.
“You’re talking about Journey? Take a good hard look at my eyes, then think about hers. Our facial features. In fact, where’s your phone?” he asks, confusing me further.
“Yes, Captain Obvious, I’m talking about Journey.” I grab my phone, raise it until the facial recognition appears. “Now what?” My attitude is in full force, but really, Wylde is the one to blame.