Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
And that doesn’t factor in the bad dreams I had when I did manage to close my eyes for more than five minutes.
“Good morning,” Becca says, breezing into the break room. She’s looking smart in her simple black skirt and white button-down. A pale pink bow is delicately wrapped around her ponytail that matches the distinct corded bracelet she wears every single day. She’s effortlessly chic. And rested. “How are you?”
Anxious. Tired. Irritable. “I’m great. You?”
“I’m good.” She pours herself a cup of coffee, too. “I was talking to one of my friends from Kismet Beach on the way to work this morning. That always makes for a good start to the day.”
“It is always nice to talk to old friends. Kismet Beach. That’s in Florida, right?”
“Yeah.” She takes a sip. “I’m originally from Texas, but I moved to Indiana. I lived there for a while and then moved to Florida.”
“How in the world did you wind up in Savannah?”
“Foxx Carmichael, actually,” she says. “He’s from Kismet Beach. I was friends with his brothers’ girlfriends. Long story short, he got me a job here.” She pauses, wrinkling her nose. “Sort of. It’s complicated.”
“Of course it is. Foxx is involved,” I say, laughing.
“Exactly.” She heads for the door. “Have a good day, Dahlia.”
“You, too, Becca.”
Her ponytail swishes as she moves down the hallway.
“Let’s get this day started, shall we?” I mumble, exiting the break room. I wave to Ford’s assistant, Hoda, and then step inside my office.
I flip on the lights and set my things on my desk. Leftover adrenaline lingers in my body, making my mind work faster … and less efficiently. I can’t remember what I need to do first this morning, nor if I have any meetings or conference calls.
I log on to my computer as my cell phone rings. I glance down and don’t know the number.
Do I pick it up? Or let voicemail answer?
I run through a series of possibilities, deciding at the last minute to answer. It could be the police checking to see if I got the form they were emailing me to sign and return. Besides, there’s nothing to be shaken up over. It was just Freddy, and he’s an asshole but harmless.
“Hello?” I say, my tone nice and even.
“Hi, Dahlia. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
My heartbeat quickens. I spring to my feet and close my office door. Looks like he needed to change his number … again.
“Hi, Dad.” The name still tastes foreign on my tongue, yet I like it. “How are you? It’s good to hear your voice.”
“I’ve been meaning to call, sweetheart.” He sighs. “That sounds like an excuse. I suppose it is an excuse.”
“You have a lot going on. I’m pretty sure I can forgive you this time.”
He chuckles. “Your mother did an amazing job raising you, Dahlia. You are such a kind, smart young woman. I’m so proud to call you my daughter even though I had nothing to do with how wonderful you are.”
I grin. “Thank you.”
It’s so weird to think about my parents together, and what that interaction looked like … and what it could’ve looked like between the three of us. People change over time, but I think we could’ve been happy as a family. I lament the fact that we never tried to be one.
“One day, after this circus is behind me, you and I will have some time to ourselves. Just the two of us,” he says. “We haven’t had a chance to do that.”
“No, we haven’t. I’d like that. A lot.”
“Me, too. So how are things with you? How’s work going?”
For a brief, fleeting moment, I consider telling him about Freddy and the intrusion of my privacy but decide against it. It’s not really important, and he has bigger, heavier fish to fry. Besides, it’s not really how we interact yet. He hasn’t been in my life long enough for me to consider offering him insight into certain aspects of my world—especially when they involve boyfriends.
“Things are going great,” I say instead. “We’re between projects right now, so it’s the calm before the storm. I call it housekeeping because I’m making sure all of our paperwork is up to date and our plans for the next project are approved. Those kinds of things.”
“Landry Security better watch out. I might steal you for myself with such exceptional organizational skills.”
I laugh. “I really like it here. They’re very good to me.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Do you need anything? I know I’m preoccupied with this legal nightmare right now, but if you need anything at all, I want to know. I want to help.”
I close my eyes and take a minute to absorb the warmth flowing through my veins.
How can this man be guilty of all of the things leveled against him?
Money makes people do crazy things, and it’s true, I suppose, that Joseph Dallo, the businessman, could be vastly different from Joseph Dallo, the father. And his kindness to me might simply be based out of regret for not being in my life for so long. But I’m grateful to have him in my life, and I have a very difficult time imagining that this man is the same man laundering money for a cartel.