Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Darcy… you’re the one who decided to act crazy and sprint after me. I’m just trying to do the right thing here.”
“If you’re so concerned with doing the right thing, why have you been avoiding me all week? I know you saw my text yesterday, too. So why are you ignoring me?”
There it was. I clenched my jaw, searching for the right words. “Come on. Let’s get you out of this fucking park.”
“To be continued,” Darcy whispered.
“What?” I asked as I helped her up from the ground and guided her hand around my back.
“Nothing.”
22
DARCY
Dominic didn’t live in a sex cave. It was more like a sex palace. His apartment from the lobby to the elevator and all the way down to his massive double front doors just screamed “money”. And right after the scream of money left your ears ringing, a thousand little voices whispered “sex” all hot and heavy in your ears. It was the sort of place that probably made women throw their panties on their coat rack as soon as they came in and go lay in wait on his bed.
But it took more than money to get my panties off.
He helped me inside and I was relieved to finally get a chance to sit on the couch after hobbling with him for four or five blocks. I’d let myself be distracted from the throb in my ankle by all the envious looks I’d drawn on the street. Just about every woman with a pulse had looked at me like they would’ve chopped off at least a pinky toe to be in my place. If only they knew how frustrating and confusing the man was, maybe they wouldn’t have been so desperate.
“How does it feel?” He asked. He left me on the couch and went to the kitchen where he rummaged in the fridge and produced an ice pack.
“A little tender, but I think I’ll survive,” I said. To be honest, it was probably already good enough that I could’ve walked home, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit that. I was here in his apartment and I felt something in the air–something I wanted to wait and let develop.
He chucked the ice pack my way and I caught it. I pressed it to my ankle and let out a breath of relief as the cold numbed the pain.
“You know, you could’ve just asked for an interview,” he said.
I grinned. “What do you think that text was?”
“Childish emojis that I couldn’t interpret.”
I rolled my eyes. “Liar. But I wasn’t trying to work on the interview this time,” I admitted. “I honestly wanted to figure out what happened. One minute I thought we were on the same page on that rooftop and then it seemed like you’d changed your mind.” The same page. That was a good way to phrase it without making things too weird. I didn’t want to use words like relationship or feelings.
Dominic sat on the coffee table across from me, face serious. “I learned my father plans to start playing a role in the work we do at The Squawker. He’s going to arrive on Monday and get personally involved, but I don’t know to what extent. If you and I were…” He paused, eyebrows drawing together. “Involved,” he said slowly. “I think he’d figure it out.”
My eyebrows slid upwards. His father was coming to our little magazine? The same father who reached his grubby little hands into my life and tried to snuff me out because I’d caused him a minor inconvenience? I suddenly wondered how much it cost to hire an assassin. Or was that not the term they preferred? Hitman? Fixer? Either way, I wondered if having someone murdered was a viable reason to take out a loan in the eyes of a bank.
“I know,” Dominic said, exhaling. He must’ve read the look on my face.
“So you’re ignoring me because you don’t want your dad to know we’re involved? Didn’t he get involved with co-workers several times?”
“He would care for different reasons. We argued about this assignment. His ego makes him want to deny he’s ever going to retire or pass on any of the company to me. He saw me wanting to spearhead the operation as a sort of power grab. But I didn’t relent and he eventually let up. He warned me if anything went poorly, he’d step in and take over.”
“Is something going poorly?”
“No,” he snapped. He spread his hands, head tilting. “Sort of. The sales have taken a slight dip these last two weeks. A local critic in the city is bashing the new direction we’re taking, and I think some of the former readers are stepping away from the magazine. But I’m confident we’ll bring in new eyes soon.”
I chewed my lip, hesitating. “Maybe it would help if we brought back one or two of the weekly pieces you cut?”