Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“That sucks,” I comment, “but at least he cares. You said you wanted him to take the wedding seriously.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean I wanted him to marry the stupid gym.”
I giggle. “Oh, Beth, I’ve missed you.”
“Good, because I’ve missed you, too,” she laughs. “Now, let me know when you get back in town, okay? No more MIA, and barely texting me back won’t cut it. I’ll send out a search party for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good. Love you, Lizzie Loo.”
“Love you.” I hang up the phone and toss it onto the bed, feeling a hundred times better. Talking to my best friend was a breath of fresh air, and that’s exactly what I need for dealing with this clusterfuck. Not to mention, Troy is somewhere in this house, and Gerard is, too, I think.
I push myself off the bed, and the draft causes me to shiver. My hair is still damp from my shower, and I still haven’t dressed. I head to the chest of drawers, sifting through the clothing.
Well, sexy is definitely not on the menu.
The underwear reminds me of middle school days—cotton briefs. Ugh. I grab a black pair, hoping the color will compensate for the lack of taste. I opt for a gray sweatshirt and black jogger-style sweatpants, both a little too big.
“Well, this is as good as it’s gonna get,” I mumble under my breath as I take in my reflection in the full-length mirror. My face is devoid of makeup, and my hair is a little frizzy from letting it air-dry. It is not how I want Troy to see me, but the knock on the door tells me I won’t have a choice.
“You okay?” Gerard’s voice comes from the other side of the door, sending a wave of disappointment through me.
“Yeah,” I call back, my shoulders dropping. I walk to the door and open it, seeing one very tired Gerard. “Sorry that you have to stay here.”
He shrugs. “Better to stay here than go back to the city and deal with Frank Vitali. His men are ruthless.”
“Are they?” I question, tilting my head. “Is this worse than what everyone is letting on?”
“Hell, if I know. I’ve been stuck following you around for the last two weeks.”
“Right,” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair.
“Now that it’s nearly fuckin’ two in the morning, I’m going to bed. If you need me, I’ll be in the bottom floor bedroom next to the side door attached to the mudroom.”
Wow, talk about the other side of the house.
“Okay, thanks for the heads-up,” I tell him. He nods and then slips back down the hallway. I watch him walk away, wondering why I’m not attracted to a man like him. He’s at least fifteen years younger than Troy and is just as fit, but he does absolutely nothing for me. Maybe that’s why, at the ripe age of freaking twenty-five, I’m still a virgin.
Pursing my lips, I wonder where Troy is, but the sound of the TV in the second-floor sitting room answers my question. I slip down the hallway toward the noise, noting the artwork hanging on the wall. It looks like it’s straight out of a rustic magazine, and under different circumstances, it might actually feel like a vacation.
“You should be in bed,” Troy greets me—well, whatever kind of greeting that is—as I step into the room, the floor creaking under my feet. The TV is playing a sitcom I don’t recognize, but Troy’s eyes are on a file in his lap.
“I can’t sleep,” I lie, not having even tried.
“You should try.”
“Gerard is going to bed.”
“I know.”
“Why is he on the ground floor, and we’re up here?” I blurt out, my heart skipping a beat as the words leave my lips.
He looks up at me, his eyes darkening as they roll over my body, sending a shiver of excitement down my spine. “Someone needs to say on the ground floor for security measures.”
“Right,” I answer breathlessly.
“Go to bed.” His voice is sharp but also husky.
My thighs clench as my mind fills with images of his head between my legs.
“I don’t want to,” I say defiantly, taking another step into the room. “I’m not going to be forced to bed.”
His jaw tenses as his eyes darken. “I can force you to bed.” The words send my body on a spiral, arousal igniting in my core. Troy shuts the file and sets it to the side of him on the couch, pushing himself to his feet. “Let’s go.”
I’m unsure how to read him, but I don’t budge, forcing him to close the distance between us. My breath hitches when I catch a whiff of his cologne, my mind running wild with what I want him to do to me.
“Liz,” he says in a deep, gravelly voice. “You need to get some rest.”