Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
That doesn’t disturb me in the slightest, but the fact that Lena has shifted numerous times beside me does. It’s been two hours since she fell asleep, and she’s mumbled a few things, but I can’t decipher what she’s saying. Perhaps she’s having nightmares?
Putting on my gloves, I lean over and brace myself as I give her shoulder a nudge. Her shoulder is softer than I imagined it to be, even through the glove, and I try to focus on that instead of the uproar of immediate disgusted oppression. She grumbles something but falls soundly back to sleep. I curse under my breath, tempted to hit her with a pillow. I nudge her again, a little harder this time. Her eyes fly open, and she looks at me with startled blue eyes.
“What’s my name?” I ask.
“Asshole,” she mutters, turning back over. I guess that’s a good enough answer. She falls asleep again pretty quickly, and over the following six hours, I wake her two more times before I get out of bed. I didn’t sleep, but then again, I’ve hardly been sleeping much at all lately.
Not that I was a big sleeper to begin with. But my mind is getting tired now. And I can’t afford not to be sharp. Climbing out of bed, I walk into my en suite bathroom. I slide off my black sleeping pants and am grabbing for my change of clothing when she walks in.
“Shit, I need to pee,” she says groggily. I straighten and look at her in the mirror. Her attention is focused on my ass.
“Pee.” I wave to the toilet. She gives a little hop on each leg before deciding to push past me as I put on my pants. I reach for my black dress shirt but notice her staring at me through the mirror, hopping from side to side in her flowing dress.
“Can you leave?”
“You’re asking me to leave my own bathroom?” I ask incredulously.
“Well, don’t make it fucking weird. I’ll sing for you, but I’m not going to piss in front of you. That’s weird.”
“What if you piss on me?”
She stares at me, taken aback.
“It was a joke,” I add.
“No reason to gain a personality now, Mr. Happy. Now, get out. You don’t pay enough to see the show.” She shoos me out.
I shake my head as I take my shirt and close the door behind me. Kicked out of my own bathroom.
I swear she’s just as pushy as Anya, if not worse.
I hook the dress shirt over my shoulders and leave it unbuttoned as I go through my drawer of gloves. I grab a pile of cash and place it on the bedside table for her. I have numerous stashes of money throughout the house. When I begin to button up my shirt, she comes out of the bathroom, seeming unsure as she looks between me and the door.
“Okay, so this was great and all.” Her cheeks flush as she adds, “I only vaguely remember last night, but we didn’t…?”
I wait for her to finish the sentence.
“Never mind. I need to go home. Can we not tell my boss about this?”
When I don’t reply, she takes that as confirmation enough. I nod toward the side of the bed she slept on. There’s a little bit of dried blood on the pillow.
“I paid you,” I tell her, and she scrunches her brows up.
“For what?”
“For your time, which I took away. Well, considering you smashed your own head and my car in the process, you would consider it generous, yes?”
She seems shocked. “And you’re also still paying my wage with the new contract?” she asks, confused and still not moving toward the money.
“Yes. Now, take your money. I have a driver waiting for you.”
She seems hesitant to take the money but does so anyway. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with Cinita. But everything going forward will be strictly business, right? Just singing?”
I don’t reply because she won’t like the answer.
“Okay,” she says, putting her hands in the air. “I have shit to do. So thanks, I guess.”
She walks past me, and I adjust my collar.
She says my name over her shoulder, and I turn toward her. “Thanks for not touching me while I slept.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?” Not that I didn’t think about it. Her skin is stunning, and a part of me wanted to touch, taste even. But I know how loud the voices will become, revolted by the idea. I wonder, though, if, in time, they would lessen with her.
I squash that thought.
She throws me a smile over her shoulder on the way out. “Goodbye. Thanks for the injury.”
I shake my head and go to the window to watch as she leaves out the front door, where Clay, one of Anya’s men, waits for her. I can imagine the questions Anya will have about her, but I don’t trust anyone more to drop her off other than myself.