Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Not even in the slightest. “I’m not ready, Vanilla. But I will be eventually.”
She accepted the response without question. “That’s okay.” She scooted into my side and wrapped her arm through mine. Her affection warmed me and chased away the winter chill that seeped into my bones. “I’m always here when you need me.”
“I know.” My lips found her forehead, and I pressed a kiss to the skin. “And you know I’m always here for you too.”
21
Rome
I installed a bell over the door so I would know when someone walked into the office. After Calloway first walked in on me gossiping about him to Taylor, I was mortified. He overheard my most intimate feelings, and I couldn’t hide my embarrassment.
And I didn’t embarrass easily.
My relationship with Calloway wasn’t black and white. Some days were good, and some were bad. But I carried a lot of baggage, and I was beginning to understand he carried even more. Both of us were broken, and I didn’t think two broken people could fix each other. But maybe in our case we could.
I wanted to know what his nightmares were about. I wanted to know what made him so angry. I wanted to know what would make him drink nearly a full bottle of bourbon on his own in the middle of the night. I knew it had something to do with this father, but I suspected there was more to the story.
But I hadn’t told him everything about myself either. I guarded my past securely. The only person who knew every little detail was Christopher—and that was because he was my brother. My closest friend was Taylor, and she only knew a fraction of what I’d been through. By keeping everything to myself, I didn’t earn anyone’s pity. At the foster home, I’d gotten that look from so many parents that walked by me and had no interest in adopting me.
I hated that look.
But Calloway made me open up more than I ever did with anyone else. I told him about my past, my time in foster care, and those long days inside the basement. He gave me that look of pity, but when I asked him to stop, he did.
With enough time and work, I really thought we could have something amazing.
I cared for him in ways I’d never anticipated. He was deep in my heart, and my obsession didn’t derive from his gorgeous body and his awesome skills in the sack. Those were just bonuses, like winning the lottery power ball.
Sometimes, he became too aggressive, as if he could boss me around. It rubbed me the wrong way when he expected me to listen like I was some kind of pet. But when he took control in the bedroom, I didn’t seem to mind at all.
When I pushed back, he would eventually yield, and when I stood up to him, he respected me. Even when he was in his darkest mood, he would listen to me if I asked him to. He was a complicated man with difficult emotions. He wasn’t easy to understand, but neither was I.
In the midst of all the events over the past few weeks, I’d fallen even harder for him. It was so strong that I didn’t care about the driver who picked me up and took me home every day. I didn’t care about his issues sleeping with me in bed. I didn’t care that every time we had sex I was a little sore because his dick was so big. I didn’t care about any of the negatives because he was everything.
I wasn’t even sure how I got there.
The bell rang overhead, and I snapped out of my thoughts. I was sitting at my desk and had completely forgotten what I was doing because I’d zoned out. Calloway began as a small thought and then grew until he filled my entire brain.
I glanced at my computer and realized I was in the middle of writing an email to a donor. I couldn’t remember what I’d already wrote, but I would come back to it later. I looked up from my desk to address whoever stopped by.
In a heavy black coat with a gray suit underneath stood a man I despised. His brown hair was shorter than it used to be, almost buzzed along the scalp. His facial hair was thick like he hadn’t shaved in over a week. The same evil twinkle was in his eyes, the sparkle of mischief. His smile wasn’t cute. Somehow, it was terrifying. When he turned that look on me, I wanted to throw my computer at his head. “There’s my girl.”
Why did murder have to be illegal? “Hello, Hank. How are you?”
“Good. But better now.”
I kept the derision out of my voice because being indifferent would probably get him out of there quicker.