Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
There’s an unwritten rule about confrontation. The last one to speak usually won. Or, at the very least, the last one to speak normally didn’t lose. I wanted to be that person, so I did the only thing I saw fit. I smiled, like he’d just offered me a deal that was way too easy to refuse, when in reality, I knew that I was no longer drowning in deep shit. I was already half-dead.
I sent a hand to his neck, running my fingers through his tie, then yanking the tip. Hard. Not to choke him, but enough to show him that I could. And that I would, if need be. My face was so close to his, I saw the panic swimming in his pupils. He may have faked a lisp, but he couldn’t fake bravery. He was scared. Rightly so.
“I think you didn’t take one thing into consideration, Morgansen. I grew up here. I know this place. I am the place. You may have the money, but not the respect. Or the friends. Or the connections. You have zero power over me, and if you think I will cower and bow down to you, get lawyered up right now.” I let go of his tie, letting him drop like a sack of potatoes back to his executive chair, gagging a little. I paced to the door, easy, unconcerned, and smiling, though I felt none of those things. I stopped at the threshold and turned around. “You messed with the wrong motherfucker, Darren.”
“Dump her.”
“I’m sorry. Are you deaf now? Did you not hear my last sentence?”
“You’ll regret it, son.”
I hadn’t had the best history with dads in general, but I was pretty sure I’d rather pluck off my balls than ever hear Darren refer to me as his son. I slammed the door in his face, letting it rattle on its hinges in my wake.
Like hell I will.
I barely made the trip down in the elevator before bile glazed my throat. I threw my breakfast up into a manicured rosebush outside Darren’s corporate building, then wobbled my way to the nearest BevMo and bought a bottle of vodka to wash down a pack of Tylenols. Class before ass. After washing down two pills with a swig of the good stuff and discarding the rest of the bottle into a trash can, I leaned against my Harley, elbows-on-handles, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to say to Jesse.
The truth, you liar. How about you start being honest?
But the truth was complicated. It was messy and uncomfortable. And even I couldn’t fathom it all the way. For one thing, Jesse and I were kind of stepsiblings. Artem and I didn’t share any genes. In fact, he hadn’t even married my mom, but he’d played daddy when I’d needed him to, which was more often than not. Even though my mother hadn’t known he had a family until it was too late—I’m sure she figured it out when she went to his funeral and was too much of a saint to share with me, not wanting to tarnish his reputation in my eyes—she felt close to him. Bright side to this bombshell: at least now I had a definite answer to my mom’s question whether she was going to meet Jesse anytime soon: hard pass.
I was pretty sure Jesse would want nothing to do with my mother and me, and even if she could overcome the twisted misfortune of our connection, there was still the deceit factor. I was going to have to own up to signing a contract where she was pretty much nothing more than a pawn. A means to an end. Then, finally, there was the money issue. I was officially indebted to Darren—millions upon millions of dollars I did not have. I could sell Café Diem, and the new hotel definitely had to go. Without a doubt, I was going to lose my pants in the upcoming months—probably the houseboat, too. I tried to tell myself that I would eventually reinvent myself. I always had.
The liar. The con. The thief. The escort.
I wore many hats, playing people like they were my favorite instrument. They say you win some, you lose some, but the latter, I’d never really experienced. Not until I’d gained something that actually mattered.
Fuck it. I would lose my pants, and my properties, and my business, but not her. Not Jesse.
With that in mind, I hopped on my bike and headed toward her house. The plan was to come clean, and maybe try to convince her not to kill me. I was hoping my pissing all over Darren’s threats and choosing her over the money was going to earn me some bonus points. Of course, I’d never been fucked by a guy who agreed to take me out for money, so what the fuck did I know?