Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Rayne stood at the top of his mat, closed his eyes, and brought his hands to his heart, ready to conclude his session. He was on his final thanks of gratitude when he heard a car pull into the driveway, followed by a diesel-engine-powered Jeep Gladiator that sat idling at the curb. Rayne didn’t recognize either of the vehicles, but perhaps Mike had invited more people since he could barely contain his pride at having a son who was about to get married to an executive.
Their company wasn’t supposed to arrive for another couple of hours, but he respected people that came to the party early to pitch in. Rayne shielded his eyes from the midday sun as he tried to get a better look at who was in the luxury Jaguar in the driveway. He had no clue who that couple was or the hostile-looking ones waiting at the curb and staring at him as if he was a live statue performer.
If neither couple was going to be polite and get out to introduce themselves, then Rayne was going to approach them. Besides, this was his home now. He squatted and rolled up his mat, then picked up his bottle of water. Only when his back was turned did the couple in the Jag finally get out, but the woman spoke first, shocking the hell out of him.
“I remember Big Mike having a thing for older women, but I didn’t know he had a sweet tooth for young boys.”
“Excuse me?” Rayne glowered.
“Are you sure you brought me to the right house, Snake?” She ignored Rayne as she spoke to the couple in the Jeep. “Seriously? Because I’m still not believing it.”
The tinted window powered down, and Rayne was able to get a better look at the driver. He had a buzz cut, tattoos covering every inch of his exposed skin, including his neck and some places on his face. Chill bumps ran down Rayne’s forearms when he saw the corpse-gray aura emanating from the woman in the passenger seat. She was dark everywhere—her hair, her clothes, and her gaudy costume jewelry. The only color about her was her piercing blue eyes, but even those were outlined with thick black liner and smoky eyeshadow.
The driver answered, “Well, this is definitely his house, but—”
“Um, excuse me. And you are?” Rayne asked with more bass in his voice. He was starting to pick up on the disrespect. This was not company for him and Mike. Rayne was being encountered by something else.
She scoffed, blinking her long fake lashes. “And so well-spoken.” She cynically regarded Rayne’s yoga materials and his book on Master Chen Yi’s Science of the Mind. “And cultured even.”
“I’m not going to ask you again. Who are you, and what do you want?” Rayne had his eyes on the woman standing a few feet away from him and his peripheral on the scary couple in the Jeep.
She took in the immaculate garden before she glanced at the front door. “Tell Big Mike someone’s here to see him.”
“Who are—”
“Just tell him an old acquaintance. I’d rather not ruin the surprise.”
Rayne had a sinking feeling Mike wasn’t going to like this surprise.
“You wanna go get him, pretty boy? Or should I just go in and make myself at home?”
“You’re not stepping foot inside my house until you tell me who—”
“Your house?” she asked cautiously, cocking her head to the side as if she was confused. She tapped her manicured red nail against her thin bottom lip as if she was contemplating.
When she mimicked that she was thinking hard, Rayne noticed a familiarness in her dark eyes and thick brows. The wrinkles that creased the corners of her eyes and around her mouth told him she was older than she presented herself. To disguise her age, she wore trendy designer jewelry, black high heels, and a formfitting, full-length bodycon dress that hugged every curve she had and a few more.
“Ivy, you promised to keep things cordial.”
The driver in the Jaguar was standing at the edge of the driveway as if he didn’t want to walk in the grass and potentially scuff his expensive boat shoes. He wore a collared shirt and tan chinos that looked like they were handpicked by an associate at Brooks Brothers. Rayne recognized money when he saw it. This guy wasn’t filthy rich, but he had enough to fit right in with the other uppity snobs at the country club.
“Honey, I’m just talking to the boy,” she said over her shoulder.
Boy? Rayne narrowed his eyes as the couple in the Jeep cackled like a couple of hyenas watching a cougar intimidate a deer. Whatever game they were playing, Rayne wasn’t interested anymore, and his patience had worn thin.
“Well, playtime is over.” Rayne turned his back and walked toward the porch. “Finish having your fun on your way out of the driveway.”