Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“Ready?” I ask her.
She takes a deep breath and I lose my battle against not looking at her breasts again. “As I’ll ever be. Now, let me go charm the pants off a hitman. Not literally, just…you know what I mean.”
I laugh. “I do.”
Her eyes lock with mine and she nods. “It’s showtime.”
Chapter
Twelve
MIRA
Ishould have brought a jacket. The air conditioning hasn’t been turned down since the day cooled off, and I shiver as soon as I walk into the restaurant. And if I’m being totally honest, I am a little nervous now that I know the truth about Enzo. Every single worst-case scenario went through my head on the way here and it’s impressive, really, how many ways I can imagine myself dying in only a ten minute fake Uber ride.
Fulton Market is one of my favorite places in the city. It’s close enough to my office that I can walk in comfortable shoes and appreciate the art and some good food and be back in time to see my next client. I’ve been to this particular ramen place a few times, not enough to be familiar with any of the staff, but enough to feel a tad more comfortable than going somewhere where I don’t know all the exits.
Enzo—or Matthew as he’s going by right now—is already there, seated at the table with a bottle of sakê on the table. Why do people assume everyone drinks alcohol? It’s such a scam and so bad for you, and it’s a tangent I can easily go off on while still not judging others for their choices. It was only when I decided to make some major life changes that I stopped drinking and then realized how much better I felt overall because of it and the other positive changes I brought into my life.
You can’t get mad at the wind for the mess it makes when you’re the one leaving the window open, after all.
“Mya,” Matthew says, standing up. He didn’t hit the genetic lottery, but he’s well dressed, well groomed, and has nice manners. And that can go a long way. If only more men understood that appeal. Us women don’t need a six-five, blue eyed, rich man. We just want someone kind and consistent.
And preferably not involved in organized crime.
“You look stunning.” He pulls out my chair for me.
“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.” I push my hair back only to remember that I need to keep my left ear covered. The little earpiece is more uncomfortable than I thought it would be, and it’s so small I was worried it might fall inside my ear and I’d have to go to the ER to get it dug out. “How are you doing tonight?”
“Better now that you’re here.”
I smile and laugh, smoothing out my dress after hooking my purse on the back of my chair. “Have you been here before?”
“I have not,” he says and picks up the menu. “What about you?”
“No.” I shake my head and flick my gaze around the restaurant. I’m seated with my back to the door, which I don’t like, and Mason isn’t here yet. He told me the plan and he assured me that this partner would already be here but I don’t see any single men at any of the tables. Is his partner a woman? No, I especially remember him saying he will already be there. “I’ve always wanted to come here though. I have friends that work nearby and are always raving about how good the ramen is. I hope this place wasn’t out of your way. I didn’t even think to ask when I suggested it.”
“No, it’s not at all. I just got a place at the Wrigley Building.”
“Nice work already,” Mason’s voice rings in my ear, startling me. The microphone was given to me inside the Uber and is clipped to my bra. I wasn’t sure how well it would pick up any sound, as it’s kinda smashed against my breasts, but apparently, it’s working well.
“Oh wow,” I say, ignoring Mason. “I’ve always admired that building but it’s a little out of my price range as a social worker.” I laugh and pick up my water.
“Hey, who knows where tonight might lead. Maybe you’ll be living up there with a certain someone in a few months' time.”
I force a smile, not gagging on the love bombing.
“Gotta play your cards right.”
Enzo is very obviously checking out my breasts and I take a breath, leaning back just a bit so I can arch my back and stick them out. Men like him are so predictable. He wants one thing and one thing only, and he’s full of himself enough to think he’s entitled to get whatever it is he wants.
I’m going to have to play my own cards right to keep him engaged enough to keep pursuing me, which can be tricky when he’s not interested in an actual relationship but rather just a piece of ass.