Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“Impressive. I’m a little disappointed though. Where’s the robot?”
“I’ll get right on that.” He winks before pointing to the panel. “That’s where we order. If you are a resident, your order can easily be given by just telling the computer that you want anything from your regular to something different to make the day special.”
His voice is still serious. For a moment, I thought he was over the attitude. I notice right away that Cain is no longer acting like the man who showed me the model home. Ever since we left the model home, he’s been cold and strange, and his answers have been a little short. Then I thought he had moved past it when he joked with me in the car, but I guess not because he’s back with the salty attitude.
I wonder why he keeps flip-flopping.
Better yet, I wonder what brought the whole change of demeanor on.
What happened between the model home and now to change his attitude?
And that’s when I remember the woman who stared at him and the way he drove off. The woman who I truly think was the trespasser.
Could that be it?
Am I reading too much into it? Or should I keep following what my gut says and dig in further when I have the right moment?
Some time passes from ordering, and we both sit in relative silence. I use the awkward quiet to jot in my journal to make notes on what I saw, and when the food comes, I hear a smash against the floor and notice Cain’s dish lying broken. When I look up from the floor to meet his eyes, nothing about him is similar to the man I’ve gotten to know.
Cain jumps from the chair and storms off, and I have no idea what happened, but something tells me there is definitely more to this than meets the eye.
11
Cain
Did she notice the way I reacted earlier?
Is Layla aware of the woman at the home tour? It was like seeing a ghost.
But this ghost is real.
Fuck.
I can’t breathe, and blackness veils my vision. Am I dying, having a heart attack?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I’m having a panic attack.
This can’t be happening. I feel myself literally coming apart.
Seeing her shouldn’t set me off.
Normally, it wouldn’t, but . . . since meeting Layla, something has changed.
How can this one person undo years of trained behavior?
Everything is coming apart.
The darkness envelops me.
I’m losing my cool, and I need to get myself back in order.
But here lies the problem. Normally, I can. Order is never interrupted. I don’t let chaos in.
However, when Layla is around, my emotions that are usually in check are all over the place.
It’s not just the laughing. It’s not just the smiling. I’m angry, too.
For as long as I can remember, my anger has been a pot of water, simmering but controllable. Ever since she stepped into my life, my emotions, ones I should control, are all over the place, and now I’m boiling over. It should be easy to calm down. It’s something I’ve mastered my whole life, but nope.
Layla has me tied up in knots, and I have no idea why.
She makes me crazy.
The weirdest part is, I’m starting to crave things I’ve never craved before.
Like when I was bowling with her, I wanted to see her smile. When we were playing darts, I wanted to make her laugh.
When I took her for the first tour, I wanted to see her eyes open wide with amazement.
I wanted to see my building through her eyes. Which is not something I ever cared about.
For me, I prefer a clutter-free personal life. I like things to be taken care of in an organized fashion. I like meticulous.
That was before Layla awoke this hunger inside me.
It had lain dormant for years. Pushed down to the very bottom of my dark soul.
It’s resurfaced and needs an outlet.
Look at me now.
He would be so disappointed in me.
I’m ready to throw it away, everything I built, just to see her smile.
It makes no sense. Despite what I should do, which is walk away from this woman and let someone else continue her tour, I find I can’t. The desire to figure out why she makes my pulse pump harder drives me. I need to get to the bottom of it. I need to understand why.
I realize that being this close to her is making me lose my cool. That she makes me want things from her I don’t understand.
I want things I’ve never wanted. I hardly know her, but I’m intrigued. Since this is not something that happens to me, I decide that, despite my better judgment, I won’t call my assistant and have her take over the tour. The tour she was supposed to be giving in the first place.
Instead, I walk away from the table, make my way outside, and calm the fuck down.