Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
He scans the dishes and then my clean fork.
Quicker than I can snap my fingers, suspicion hardens his features. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“Oh. Um. I ate earlier.”
“Then why did… you… order… so… much.” His words are separated by breathy exhales.
I can’t feel what he’s feeling, but I’m reasonably sure he is acting like a man getting stabbed in the rectum with a big-ass knife.
“Are you okay?” My voice is back to the disgustingly chipper one I was using earlier. It seems to come out when I’m struggling not to laugh. “You don’t look very good.”
“I’m fine…” Christian’s eyes bulge before he folds in two. “Sweet mother of God. What the fuck is that?”
“Maybe you have an intolerance to spices? I once had kimchi jjigae. Within minutes of eating it, I felt like my insides were on fire. Is that how you’re feeling?”
He nods before his hand shoots for another bottle of water.
“You should try yogurt or milk. Water will only double the scald incinerating your tastebuds.” I point to the fridge when his tongue sticks out as if my theory is proven accurate with only one swish of water. “There could be milk in there. It’s most likely out of date by half a decade, but you’re welcome to it.”
In his desperation, and since I am whispering, he either misses my last sentence or is willing to risk food poisoning to stop the burn melting his insides.
He snatches the milk jug out of the fridge and downs it so fast that several clumps of curdled milk slide down his throat before he remembers you’re not meant to chew liquids.
“Oh no,” I murmur again, faking innocence when he stares at me with spoiled milk spilling from his mouth and the glare of a murderer. “I forgot about the power outage last week. Is it bad?”
He grits his teeth, fighting like hell not to yell the words I see in his eyes. “You could say that.” Again, his eyes bulge before a noise I’ve never heard before gurgles through his stomach. “No. This is not happening.” His voice is on the verge of a sob—as fast and unhinged as the steps he uses to race back to the bathroom.
I feel bad this time when he pops several pronged Christmas lights during the short trek, though it has nothing on the disappointment that rains down on me when I remember my bedroom butts against the bathroom Christian will most likely hog the entire night, and I have only one toilet.
7
CHRISTIAN
“She knows.”
“Knows what?” My assistant gasps in shock when the truth smacks into her. “Then you need to leave.”
“No.”
“No?” Tahlia works the word through her head like it is the first time she’s heard it. “You can’t stay. If she knows why you are there, the assignment is over. That’s how it works. You’ll still get the apartment. It may just take a little longer.”
“This isn’t about the apartment.”
“It’s not?” She couldn’t sound more shocked if she tried. It is understandable. Usually nothing takes my nose off the scent, but ghosts of my past are rearing their ugly heads, making this an unfair fight.
I shake my head like Tahlia can see me. “It is about principles.” And something else I haven’t quite worked out yet.
My cock is saved from having its feathers plucked when Tahlia asks, “Did you fall and hit your head at any time in the last twenty-four hours?”
“No.” I try to hold back my following comment, but after the night I had, I can’t help it. “But it was a close call. I slept in the tub when the dizzy spells became too much.” I have no fucking clue who I am when one truth encourages another. “It was also the only guarantee I could live with the shame if I shit myself while sleeping. Thank god that didn’t happen.” Tahlia stops giggling when I murmur, “It was also a close call.”
“That should have been my first guess that she knew your ruse. Jimmy has used the too-hot-for-your-intestines-to-handle sham many times over the past two years.” Laughter chops up her words. “I bet he’s glad you took one for the team.”
Usually Jimmy moves on the unpaying tenants from our numerous building developments. He couldn’t do this assignment because it was so close to Christmas. He recently got married, and his wife is expecting their first child early in the new year. He would have gotten shot if he’d left the country for a week only a month out from Skye’s due date.
He met Skye during a sting similar to the one I’m endeavoring to get off the ground. That should have sounded an alarm that this assignment wasn’t for me. I’m just a stubborn fuck who once believed he’d never be taken down.
I now believe differently.
As my stomach grumbles, I mumble, “I do not recall Jimmy ever using beans.”