Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“It’s okay.”
I spin on him, waving my hand, almost bashing into his arm before he pulls it back.
“It’s not,” I snap. “It’s never going to be okay again. Me and Kayla… I met her before you were rich. I was the rich one. She looked up to me. Do you know how much that means to her? To have a friend she can say, with one hundred percent certainty, loves her for her, not her money?”
He takes a step back, nodding. “I’m not saying this is an ideal situation.”
“How long can you hold him off for?” I snap. “Ethan—Finn? How long?”
“I’m not sure. A few days, maybe. I told him moving the funds around would take some time.”
“Then we don’t have to tell her today, do we?” I snap, knowing I’m taking the coward’s way out, knowing the problem will still be there in a few days.
“Not technically, but…” He runs a hand through his hair, making me want to do the same, even now. “There’s no point in delaying.”
“There has to be a way out of this,” I say. “A way to get that recording.”
“I’ve hired a PI,” Lukas tells me. “Originally, it was to look into another matter.”
“What?” I ask.
“My business partner—Seb, Sebastian—has gone AWOL, but he’s still texting. Call me blackmail-paranoid, but I’m worried about him. I’ve asked the PI to look into this, too. He’s the best in the business, with all the resources to look into this properly.”
“Let’s give him time to work, then,” I say.
“Let’s say he deletes the video. It won’t change what we did.”
“By that logic, we should’ve told her after our first kiss.”
“We should have,” he says fiercely. “There’s no doubt about that. We both know what the right thing would’ve been.”
“I can’t tell her now,” I say. “It’s too much too fast. Call me immature if you want. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just a stupid, pathetic, immature girl.”
“I didn’t say that,” he replies fiercely.
Oddly, I’m glad I vomited. It means there’s no chance he’s going to kiss me. Even with the vomit making my breath stink, he looks at me in that just-Lukas way, like he’s debating a kiss.
“When there’s no other choice,” he says, “I’ll tell Kayla, with or without your blessing.”
“I just need time,” I tell him, wondering if it’s a lie or if time will make any of this easier.
“Let me give you a ride back to your car.”
He reaches down and takes my hand. He does it so naturally. I don’t question it. Instead, I cling to him, savoring his warmth, strength, and the feeling that promises to wrap around me like a blanket. There’s something magical about being this close to him after so long.
So long… a week.
He feels it too, I can tell, from the tightness of his grip, almost like he’s desperate never to let me go.
I mutter in the car, “I’m sorry about what happened when you were a kid. That’s rough.” I don’t want to brush past that, even if my body is sparking with stress.
He shrugs. “It is what it is, but I meant what I said. I refuse to be blackmailed.”
“Where are your parents now?” I ask.
“Dad’s in the can, doing thirty years on wire fraud. My mom lives in Spain with her new husband. He’s a far better man than my dad ever was. I’m surprised Kayla has never told you any of this.”
“She’s very respectful about you,” I murmur.
“That makes it tougher, I know,” he says, reading me. “She’s respectful, loving, caring, and here I am, wishing you hadn’t just been sick so I could kiss you again.”
“Maybe that’s the best defense mechanism we could ask for,” I say, forcing a laugh, but it sounds panicked and shaky. “Vomit to the rescue, ha, ha… sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me,” he says, opening the passenger-side door and nodding me inside. He lets go of my hand. He’s probably worried about somebody seeing us. A shiver moves over my skin, ugly and unwelcome, just thinking about someone hearing us.
“I wanted to kill the little prick,” Lukas says, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Knowing he’d heard you like that… It wasn’t even about Kayla at first. It was thinking of him hearing you, with that breathiness in your voice, that perfect sound of excitement you make. Or sounds, I should say. Plural.”
I slide my hands over my belly, tempting shimmers dancing through me, trying to get me to do something silly and reckless, like place my hand on his leg.
“It wasn’t even about my daughter,” he mutters, as though speaking to himself, before starting the car. “It’s all about you, Maci. I hate the thought of anybody hearing you like that. Those moans are just for me.”
“How?” I say. “We both know we have to stop. We have stopped.”