Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Camille is sexy and beautiful, and she’s kind. Christ, she’s the perfect woman. If things were different, she’s precisely the type I’d go for.
I’m so fucking glad I didn’t kill her.
I watch as she prepares chicken and mayonnaise sandwiches.
Give the woman a break, Maxim. She’s not from your world, and the threat to her life must be very upsetting.
Still, I can’t risk having a friendship with her. How the fuck do I stop that from happening?
Camille glances up and catches me staring at her. Her eyebrows draw together, and she hesitates before saying, “I’m sorry about tonight.”
It takes a few seconds before I let down my guard enough for a smile to tug at the corners of my mouth.
Surprise flutters over her features, and it’s quickly followed by a smile of her own. The frustration that’s taken up permanent residence on her face eases away like mist before the sun.
Christ, does a smile mean so much to her?
“I really didn’t think you had it in you to smile,” she teases me.
I notice her body relaxes, and it makes me feel like an asshole for not smiling sooner.
My violent past has conditioned me not to show emotion, but now that I have to guard this beautiful woman, I’m starting to realize how lifeless my life has become.
Still, you can’t let her in.
Camille plates the sandwiches before taking a seat at the island instead of going back to her bedroom. When she gives me a hopeful glance, I step closer and sit across from her.
She waits for me to take a bite before she picks up half of her sandwich. After chewing and swallowing, she asks, “Don’t you get lonely keeping people at a distance?”
Without hesitating, I answer, “No.”
Having people you care about gives your enemies something to target.
“I always considered myself an introvert until I met you,” she mentions.
Our eyes lock, and almost a minute passes before she glances down at her plate.
“So, with you in my space, day and night, how are we going to handle things if I go on a date or decide to bring a man back to my place?”
Christ.
She lets out an awkward chuckle, “I’d lose my shit if you burst into my bedroom while I’m…busy.”
There’s a weird sensation in my chest, and it makes my temper flare.
I know what I’m asking is unreasonable, but I can’t stop the request. “Maybe you could take a break from dating while I’m around.”
So I don’t kill an innocent fucker because I didn’t like you moaning his name.
“What if it takes months or a year before the threat is dealt with?”
Then I’m royally fucked.
It’s one thing keeping my distance from Camille for a couple of weeks, but it’s a different beast being around her for months.
I’ll get used to having her around.
I’ll start caring about her.
And eventually, I’ll give in and lower my guard.
Avoiding the problem, I say, “Let’s take things one week at a time.”
She nods and takes the last bite of her sandwich. Instead of leaving the plate on the counter, she places it in the dishwasher.
“You don’t have to keep the place spotless,” I mention. When she gives me a skeptical look, I add, “I want you to be at home in your place.”
Her features soften as she stares at me. “Thank you for trying, Max. I appreciate it.”
I nod before loading my plate in the dishwasher.
“Would you like to watch TV with me?” she suddenly asks. “I have snacks if you need an incentive.”
Automatically the corner of my mouth lifts. “I’d say yes if you had beer. I don’t care much for snacks.”
Lifting her hand to her chin, she taps her pointer finger against her bottom lip. “Hmm… I don’t have beer, but I have whiskey.”
“You have a deal,” I chuckle.
Emotion washes over Camille’s face, and it looks like she’s a second away from crying. She quickly turns around and rushes toward the liquor cabinet in the living room.
Christ, this is all she wanted.
You’re an asshole, Maxim.
I walk to her pantry and grab a packet of chips and a chocolate bar before taking a soda from the fridge. With Camille’s snacks in my hands, I meet her in the living room.
I set the snacks down on the couch where she will sit and take the tumbler of whiskey from her.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispers as she makes herself comfortable on the couch.
Just as I take a seat on the armchair, she asks, “Don’t you want to change into something more comfortable than a suit?”
I shake my head, and when she folds her legs beneath her, I quickly look at the TV so I don’t stare at her bare legs.
“Are you okay with a comedy?” she asks.
I nod and take a sip of the whiskey. The liquid burns down my throat, and it feels totally out of my character to sit in front of a TV.