Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
There’s just something wrong about arguing over his nice ass when I’m looking homeless. The lounge clothes may be Olivia Von Halle, but even the finest cashmere isn’t doing my plump ass any favors. I’m not exactly dressing to accentuate my shape right now.
I close my eyes and take a long-suffering breath. “What were we talking about?”
“You were complimenting my ass.” Is that humor in his tone? I look down the hall toward the bedroom, if only to avoid the trip down memory lane when his laugh and jokes were an everyday occurrence. I hated him for it then, but they sure would be a nice change from the surly man he’s become.
“Before that.”
“I was letting you know that you’re responsible for paying me back for all of that junk you had delivered from Neiman’s.” I roll my eyes and blow out the puff of air I was holding. “Add that to what you owe me for working on finding your friend, and it’s looking to be a hefty damn fee.”
“You’re charging me to find Dani?” I snap my head back, but honestly, I’m not all that surprised. “No love lost there, huh?”
His eyes dart away, and almost like a tangible thing, the fun we were having and whatever wall that was beginning to crumble is fortified once again.
“There are eleven men working on this shit, and we don’t work for free.”
My lips form a flat line. I would’ve paid him even if he didn’t insist because the last thing Dani or I need is owing this man. Knowing that doesn’t keep me from wanting to argue with him about it.
It’s the look on his face, the challenging raise of his eyebrow that tells me that doing so would be a mistake. He takes pride in his work and even joking about him doing it for free is an insult I’m not willing to play with.
“So, what happens next?”
He turns back around and begins digging in the fridge again.
“We can order pizza,” I offer.
I won’t eat it, but he seems like a guy that would enjoy something like that.
“There’s a ton of food here,” he argues without pulling his face from the fridge.
“Make yourself at home,” I grumble.
He chuckles but there’s no humor in his snippy laugh. “Women. You fucking told me about the food, don’t get pissed when I take you up on the offer. I’m not one of your little richy-rich guy friends who doesn’t eat.”
He moves things around on the shelves before deciding on a fruit, meat, and cheese tray.
“As for what comes next,” he begins, pausing to take the time to lift the plastic lid and open the various dips, “you’ll stay here until things calm down or we have a better idea of what’s going on.”
“I have obligations, Deacon. I can’t just hole up in a damn hotel room for the foreseeable future.”
“It’s a suite. You make it sound like it’s not larger than the average American home. Besides, you can miss a few parties.”
“It’s not just a few parties!” I cross my arms over my chest, but when his eyes laser focus on my breasts, I drop my hands to my sides. “I have places my parents require me to be.”
“Anna.” Deacon props his arms on the counter and drops his head between his shoulders. “This is more serious than a few social obligations.”
“And how am I supposed to know that? You won’t tell me shit.”
When he lifts his head, his lip is twitching but not with humor. “Your best friend stole a couple million dollars’ worth of uncut blood diamonds off a notoriously violent Russian mobster. He’s not dead, and all of his little buddies are looking for Dani and those stones.”
“Oh God.” My hand covers my mouth.
“Yeah,” he snaps. “So forgive me if I’m more concerned about trying to get her spoiled ass home safe than your parties. This is life-and-death shit right now.”
I clear my throat to ward off the tears that are threatening. I’ve cried a lifetime of tears in front of this man, and I refuse to keep doing so.
“Okay,” I tell him before turning and walking out of the kitchen.
As quietly as my shaking hands can manage, I close the bedroom door and lean against it. The room is in complete disarray from all the things I had delivered, and I was in the middle of pulling tags from the clothes when Deacon showed up. I haven’t even made it to the makeup, hair and bath products yet. I don’t have the energy for any of it now, so I head back to the closet, shoving aside the things the concierge hung in there and sit down.
I don’t even know what to try to focus on right now. There are too many things in my head warring for attention.