Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I raked my fingers through my hair and let out a rush of air as if I’d been holding my breath underwater. I stared out the window, unseeing, for a minute or so, then twisted to face her.
“I want to see Gowan again. On my own.”
Janet arched a brow. “Why?”
“Personal reasons. I don’t want a photographer or an article or any big deal. Give me his number, and I’ll take over from there.”
“Pierce. There’s no reason to set up another meeting. And I’m not sure what Seb would say about—”
“Don’t tell him. And don’t ask me fifty questions,” I snapped. “Either you handle it, or I will.”
Janet whipped her glasses off to give me the full brunt of her incredulous expression. “Pierce, are you crazy? Why wouldn’t you tell Seb?”
“Because it’s fucking personal. I want to know why my mother was at that house. If Gowan really knew my mom…” I didn’t finish my sentence. I couldn’t.
She bit her bottom lip and sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”
I nodded my thanks and plonked my sunglasses on, closing my eyes as I slumped in my seat and tried to clear my mind. I didn’t want to think about my mom or her cousin or the endless parade of special events Janet had lined up for me.
I didn’t want to think about Lorenzo either, or the look on his face when I’d told him I’d suspected he’d set me up. If looks could kill, I’d have dropped dead in an instant. There had to be something innately wrong with me, ’cause quite honestly, his disdain was kind of refreshing and—
“Hey, Janet? Make sure Lorenzo’s there.”
Did I mention I had a mild masochistic streak?
I dreamed about my mom that night. It was a strange one.
We were at a hotel bar surrounded by faceless old men she’d introduced as cousins. She didn’t speak in the dream. She never did. She wore a beautiful blue ball gown, had feathers in her hair, and sipped a martini, smiling every time someone new approached and asked if they could come by for dinner.
And in the way dreams made no sense, the scene changed, and suddenly, we were in a garden, pulling vegetables from the earth.
She was still wearing a gown, but the feathers were replaced by the colorful scarf she’d worn when her hair had fallen out in clumps after chemo. A floppy hat hid her eyes, but her smile grew and my heart soared. I almost couldn’t breathe.
Is this good, Mom? Are you proud?
I reached for the carrot or turnip or whatever the fuck it was…and there was nothing but a basketful of dust. Her smile faded, my heartbeat escalated, and—she was gone.
I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart beating a wild tattoo.
“Not real,” I chanted as I slowly resurfaced. “Not real.”
Nothing was real.
Mr. Gowan accepted my invitation to meet the following Tuesday. Janet and Enid worked out the timing. Easy-peasy.
My schedule was too free for my own good at the moment. Daily stints in my home gym and the occasional trips to the studio to hassle Seb and his secretary in between script readings weren’t enough distractions to fill up a day.
So lunch? No problemo.
Just me and Mr. Gowan and…
I grinned when Lorenzo opened the front door. “Nice to see you again.”
“I can’t say the same,” he singsonged, rounding on me with gritted teeth when he pulled me into the foyer. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing at all. I come in peace.” I held my hands up in surrender.
“Bullshit. You got your good Samaritan story last week. You already need another one?” He planted his hip and struck a fierce pose. “Uh-oh. Have you been naughty again?”
My cock twitched on cue. Of course it did. I was kind of a sick fuck, and though he wasn’t my usual type, he was seriously sexy.
I gave him a cool once-over followed by a quirky lopsided smile. “Always.”
A spark lit his eyes before he dampened it. He paused to scan the semi-circular driveway, hooking his thumb over his shoulder meaningfully as he closed the door behind him.
“Where’s your entourage?”
“It’s just me today,” I replied, unzipping my leather jacket. “Raul will wait in his car.”
Lorenzo cocked his head curiously. “His car? Is there another car out there?”
“Yeah, he parked on the street. He’ll keep tabs on the house while I’m here.”
“Oh, right. Famous person,” he grumbled sarcastically.
I shrugged good-naturedly. “It’s his job.”
“Hmm. And why exactly did you request my presence? You really think I hatched some diabolical scheme, eh?”
He crossed his arms, testing the integrity of his silky light-blue shirt around his biceps. Lorenzo was a slight dude—short and compact but lean and toned. Nothing about him was bulky or oversized, which meant his clothing was probably a size too small. I chanced a quick peek south and yeah, his black trousers hugged his package like a glove.