Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
And I need to clear my head of these distractions. A lot of people will be asking a lot of questions after what went down tonight. I expect Rosa Martinez to be one of the first people to reach out. I promised her a lot, and she won’t want to wait to collect.
I head straight for the bar and pour myself a healthy glass of whiskey before turning to Prince, holding up the bottle in a silent offer. He nods, and I set about pouring him a drink.
“You were keeping tabs on the Martinez cartel, right? They came through for us, didn’t they?”
He doesn’t answer right away, not until I give him a pointed look. “Well? Yes, or no?”
“Yes,” he grunts. “They had the warehouse raided and hijacked a shipment last week. I gave you a report on that.”
Did he? I’m starting to think I’m the one who could use a good night’s sleep. The days blend together, so much so that I can’t remember how long it’s been since Rosa visited me here at the house. “Right, of course you did. I know she’ll be on my ass to settle up now that she did her part.”
“I’m sure she will, but you can handle her.” He’s giving me a funny look as I hand him his glass. When I raise my brows, he reads my expression for what it is. “That’s what’s on your mind right now?”
“Obviously. Word’s going to get out, and there’s going to be a lot of questions and offers and maybe a few demands for a piece of the Alvarez businesses. We have to be prepared for that.” I gulp down half of my drink all at once on my way to the study.
He follows without question, waiting until I’ve settled in behind my desk before clearing his throat. “I’m only asking because tonight…”
“What about it?”
“Nobody would blame you if you needed a little time to wrap your head around what happened.”
“What happened?” I lean back in my chair, grinning. “I won. We won. That asshole is gone. We’re going to absorb his businesses after cutting off a chunk for Martinez.”
“What about the rest of it?” Rather than take a seat in a chair, he perches on the corner of my desk, swirling the whiskey in his glass without having consumed any yet.
“What about it? What are you trying to get me to say?”
“It’s not that you have to say anything. But I don’t think anyone would blame you if you needed a minute to process what Frankie said.”
“Fuck Frankie,” I snarl, my reaction making his gaze widen. I’m giving myself away, but I don’t care, at least not this second.
“Okay,” he murmurs. “I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him, either. But what if what he said was true?”
“What about it? It doesn’t change anything.”
“Are you sure you mean that? Because personally, it changes things for me.”
I ignore the tightness in my chest in favor of glaring at him. “How so? My grandfather’s still dead, regardless of whether he arranged for it to happen or not.”
“This isn’t her you’re talking to.” He glances up at the ceiling. “Maybe she would believe that—though I doubt she would. But I know better. And it changes a lot for me, thinking he might have been dying, which was why he set the whole thing up. Tell me that doesn’t sound like something he would do.”
Everything inside me feels like it’s on fire. “I can’t talk about this right now.”
“Eventually, you’re going to have to.”
“And exactly who are you all of a sudden? My therapist?”
He sips his drink, lowering the glass with a sigh. “I disagree with how he handled this. He should have been honest. He could at least have left a note, something to explain what he was thinking.”
Why won’t he let it go? “Too much is going on right now for me to afford the time to think about this. I’m going to need you to accept that. Do you think you can?”
He nods slowly. “Sure. Just be careful it doesn’t eat a hole in you when you aren’t paying attention.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I empty my glass, which I then slam onto the desk. “Anything else?”
He turns the glass around in his hands. “Do you really want to know?”
“Something tells me I don’t.”
He snorts. “Too late. You already asked.” He tosses back the rest of his whiskey, placing his glass beside mine before facing me head-on. “Why don’t you give up the act and tell that girl you care about her? What’s it all about anymore?”
I’m ready to punch something or, better yet, someone, and Prince is looking real tempting. “Get the hell out of my study.”
“Make me.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Fuck off. Seriously, enough of this. We’ll talk about it another time.”