Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 75836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
The server interrupted us again. “Your appetizer for the evening, ladies and gentlemen. Chef has prepared broiled calamari rings with roasted garlic and red pepper.” He and the others distributed the plates.
Once they had left, Rock said, “Raw fish, and now squid?”
“Try it,” Lacey said. “What have you got to lose?”
“My lunch.” He pushed the plate away. “Doesn’t anyone believe in good old beef anymore?”
“I hear beef is up for the entrée,” Reid said. “Except for Riley. You’re getting tilapia.”
I rolled my eyes. “Great.”
“You don’t eat red meat.”
“I do now.” I stood. “I’m going to go change my order to the beef entrée. As long as it’s not raw, that is.” I hastily exited the banquet room, found our server, and let him know what I wanted.
When I returned, all gazes were upon me once more.
“What?” I nearly yelled.
After a few seconds, Rock spoke. “Riley, did Dad ever take you…hunting?”
28
Matteo
I got a room at a Manhattan hotel I couldn’t afford. I hoped it would only be for a few nights. But who knew? It could take a while to find Riley. Sure, she was a big name here, but that meant she probably also had mega security.
To think.
I’d slept with a supermodel.
Me. Matt Rossi. Mr. Small Town Guy who made silver jewelry and did odd jobs for a living.
The velvet box holding the silver and pink sapphire pendant sat in my pocket. Once I found Riley, I’d put it around her neck. After I settled in my room, I took the elevator down to the lounge and found a seat at the bar.
“What can I get you?” a well-dressed bartender asked.
“Beer, please.”
“What kind?”
“Whatever you have on tap is fine.”
“We have Guinness draft, Stella Artois, Budweiser, Fat Tire, and Dos Equis.”
Okay, then. “Bud is fine.”
“You got it.”
Seconds later, a pilsner glass of good old Bud sat in front of me.
“You want to run a tab?” he asked.
“Sure.” I slid him a credit card. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure enough.”
“Do you know Riley Wolfe?”
“The model?” He chuckled. “I wish.”
Jealousy speared into me. I couldn’t fault him. Of course he wished he knew Riley. She was the most gorgeous creature on this planet.
“I mean, do you know where I might find her?”
“On any magazine cover.”
“Where she lives, I mean.”
“I assume she lives in the Wolfe building.”
“The Wolfe building?”
“Yeah, it’s this huge silver skyscraper in Lower Manhattan.”
“Where’s Lower Manhattan?”
“Dude, did you just get off the bus from Nebraska or something?”
“Just off the plane. From Montana.”
He guffawed. “That’s something else. And the first thing you do is ask for the most famous model in New York. That’s awesome.”
I didn’t see anything funny about it from where I was standing.
“Wait,” he continued. “Here comes someone who might be able to help you.”
A young man ambled to the bar. He was pretty-boy handsome and dressed to the nines. Here I sat in my jeans and the one button-down I owned.
“Hey, Fox,” the barkeep said.
Fox?
“Hi, Johnny. I’ll have the usual.”
“You got it.” He set to pouring what looked like bourbon, but from a bottle I didn’t recognize. “This guy has a question for you.”
“Fox” turned to me. “Yeah?”
I held out my hand. “Matt Rossi.”
“Fox Monroe. Are you a fan?”
“Of who?”
Johnny guffawed again. “Fox here is a model.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I don’t know any male models. I’m actually looking for a female model, though. Riley Wolfe. Do you know her?”
“Riley? Is she back? Last I heard she flew the coop again.”
“Flew the coop? What are you talking about?”
“She disappears from time to time. Kind of her MO.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. It irks the rest of us in the industry, but she gets away with it because she’s so good. Of course the Wolfe name doesn’t hurt either.”
“So you do know her.”
“Of course. She’s a pain in the ass for the rest of us, but I have to admit. She’s an amazing model. It all comes so naturally to her. The poise and the beauty. She carries herself like the old-school supermodels.”
“Old-school supermodels?”
“You know. Cindy Crawford. Naomi Campbell. Christie Brinkley.”
I nodded. Was it weird I’d only heard of one of those models? “She is certainly beautiful.”
“She got that from genetics. The rest is all her. She’d have an amazing career if she’d stop being such a flake.”
I tamped down the anger that threatened. “Seems she already has an amazing career.”
Fox took a sip of the drink that Johnny had set in front of him. “You’re not wrong. Damn, this is good stuff. Expensive, though.”
“What is it?”
“Pappy Van Winkle bourbon. Fifteen-year. I stumbled upon it by accident, and now I don’t want to drink anything else. Good thing I just got that Dolce & Gabbana contract.” He signaled to Johnny. “Pour one of these for Matt here.”
“No thanks. I’m on a budget.”
“It’s on me. Everyone should try this once.”
“Not really a bourbon drinker,” I said.