Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I’m dozing in and out on the bed when he finally returns to his room. The sun has gone down so I know it’s late, and it dawns on me that in spite of the fact that I’d had my phone back all day, I’d barely spent any time using it.
“Hi,” I offer as he turns on the lamp next to the bed just before sitting down.
“I’m glad you’re getting some rest,” he says.
“I’d rather have you be doing kinky things to my body.”
I refuse to go along with his game of ignoring what happened between us.
“Rowan…” he warns, but I am done letting him chicken out.
I sit up and scoot closer to him so I can reach out and run my fingers through his hair. When he looks into my eyes, I see so many confusing emotions staring back at me.
I move my hand lower, gently cupping the scruffy beard on his face, praying I can find the right words to get through to him.
“I don’t know why you’re pulling away, but I’m not going to let you run away from me.”
“I’m not running away.”
“You could have fooled me. You haven’t even kissed me once since we’ve gotten back to The Whitney.”
“I held you all night last night,” he counters.
“Yes… but are you really gonna tell me last night was like back in the cabin?”
“No, but that’s because we aren’t in the cabin. We’re back in civilization, where I’m a cleaner who lives in the shadows, and you’re a rich socialite who lives a very public life.”
I do my best not to lose my temper and keep my voice as calm as possible as I remind him, “You were a cleaner. You can be whatever the fuck you want to be in the future. You have the skills to go to med school, or be a cybersecurity guru, or a scientist, or a goddamn chef… You act like you’re so old that it’s too late to make new choices, but you are barely older than I am.”
I can tell he’s frustrated with my rant, and he pulls away from me, but I hold his arm to keep him from walking away again.
“It’s not that simple. People expect things from me. I have responsibilities.”
“Oh, and I don’t?” but even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. No one expects anything from me, and that’s part of my problem. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with my life. Somehow, I doubt being an influencer on social media is a sustainable career.
“You’re just gonna have to trust me. Just think about it—you taking me home for Sunday brunch with the family. What a joke.”
I hate his scoff of laughter.
“I would be proud to take you home,” I say truthfully.
“You say that, but it won’t work. I will never fit into your world.”
“That’s such bullshit,” I argue. “Did I act like some kind of prima donna this last week?” I don’t give him time to answer. “No. You act like I’m a princess who has to live in the lap of luxury, but I’m not. And anyway, the last time I checked, you don’t live in the rundown cabin, you live in The Whitney, which is exactly where I live too.”
Z turns away for a long minute, unable to look me in the eye. I want to hope he’s coming to his senses.
“I’ve got all of your things packed up from your old suite,” he finally says.
I can’t hide my happy surprise. “Really? That’s great. Are you moving it all here, then? Or are we going to move into another suite together?”
By the time I finish my sentence, it dawns on me that he has other plans.
“Did you forget? You were scheduled to move out at the end of the month anyway. It’s still a few days away, but I can arrange to have everything delivered wherever you want.”
A fury almost as dark as when old man Luciano slapped my face consumes me and I jump to my feet, pacing across the room just to put space between us.
When I spin back in his direction, I don’t try to keep from shouting. “So that’s it. Just, ‘get the fuck out, Rowan.’ Where am I supposed to go?”
“Wherever you were planning on going before JV broke into your room. I can send the stuff to whichever family mansion you decide you want to live in.” He’s throwing the info I’d shared with him back in my face.
“Screw you, Z. You don’t get to just pretend that everything we talked about… everything we did… that it didn’t mean anything to you.”
“I never said it didn’t mean anything to me,” he is finally shouting back. “It meant everything to me. But it wasn’t real. It was just the danger we were in… and the forced proximity… all of that is over now.”