Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
“Tell me,” she urges.
“I know you didn’t want to go to Denver, but we need to. After this, though, we don’t ever have to go back if you don’t want to.”
She nods, looking earnest. “I’m listening.”
We arrive in Denver Tuesday night and go straight to a hotel. For reasons Harper can’t explain, she doesn’t want to be at her house, but I get it. There are triggers to pain and I’ve spent a lifetime learning how to avoid my triggers. She has the right to her own and they seem to include most of the city. She doesn’t want to hit a favorite restaurant. She wants room service, so we order, then I dial Isaac.
“Were you planning on speaking to me after he died or just ignoring me?” I ask.
“What is there to say?” he replies. “He’s dead. I didn’t want to hear you tell me how damn happy you are about it.”
“I’m the happy one? Interesting, considering you’re the one who rushed to read the will. We need to meet.”
“Not happening.”
“If you want to inherit, you need to meet me before the reading. Tomorrow morning. Ten AM at the Kingston offices. If you no-show, you won’t like the surprise you’ll get at the reading.” I disconnect. He doesn’t call back.
Harper fills my glass with whiskey. “Drink some for me, too,” she says. “I can’t handle the hard stuff and function even if I wish I could right about now.”
I pull her onto the couch beneath me. “I’ll take your mind off of tomorrow.”
There’s a knock at the door. “What about the food?”
“Eat first for energy. Then I’ll have you for dessert.”
Wednesday morning doesn’t come soon enough for me. It’s the day Harper and I finally claim our freedom from this damn family and start our life together. She’s prepped. She knows exactly what’s going to happen. We arrive at the Kingston offices early and exit the Jaguar I’ve rented to meet Adam at the door. “Good thing I was still in town,” he says, joining us, no doubt packing a gun or three under the leather jacket he’s wearing.
“Lucky us,” I say dryly.
“Thanks for being here, Adam,” Harper chimes in. “I’m nervous.” Right then, the source of her nerves arrives. A black 911 Porsche pulls up next to my car. “That’s him,” Harper murmurs. “Now I’m really nervous.”
The mob boss himself, Nicholas Marshall, is a valid reason to feel a bit uptight. He comes from a long line of mob bosses and prides himself on his business savvy. He’s Italian, but his grandfather wasn’t, thus the last name. That lack of representation of his heritage often creates a need for him to feel he must overcompensate and prove he’s mob boss worthy. In other words, no one fucks with him and lives.
He exits his vehicle, towering over the roof, and scanning until he eyes my lifted hand. He waves back, his dark hairy curly and his shiny suit, gray but those details don’t matter. What does is the fact that he’s a bastard like me with a complicated back story that I knew would work in my favor, the details of which include: we’re the same age, he inherited because of his mother, and he has a brother he hates.
His bodyguard is now outside of the car, a giant of a man, who wears an equally expensive suit that looks like it was made for his smaller brother. That really cannot be comfortable. They walk our direction, and the bodyguard lingers behind a bit while Nicholas joins us, his eyes falling on Harper, and I know why. Not only does she look stunning in an emerald green dress and boots, she’s my weakness. He wants me to know he knows. He eyes her and then me. “She’s lovely. What now?” He’s not a man of many words. Good. I don’t have any desire to talk to him either nor do I want Harper to know he just threatened her.
“We go inside and wait for Isaac,” I say, opening the door and motioning to Harper to enter first, a part of our plan. This tells Nicholas it’s safe inside and it ensures no one but me is at her back.
With some careful maneuvering, we walk Nicholas, his bodyguard who doesn’t speak, and ourselves to the downstairs conference room. I take the end cap on one side of the table with Harper by my side. Nicholas takes the other with his guard by his side. Adam stays at the front door to escort Isaac to join us. “Contracts?” Nicholas asks.
I shove the folder in front of me across the table lightning quick, and it stops in front of him. He opens it, glances at the documents and then nods. “Acceptable. No turning back now.”
“That’s the point,” I say, aware of Harper’s nervous energy beside me, which is why my hand settles on her knee.