Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I shouldn’t let a man so quickly make things intimate, should I? Not until I know more about him, but just like I thought with the car, this, right here, is real. I can physically feel the couch beneath me. There are four bedrooms here, four. The view is real.
My phone vibrates. Why are you looking so broody?
I try to fight my smile, but I can’t help it. I don’t want Mom and Eli to realize something is going on more than the already crazy craziness. I pick up my phone and respond, I guess I don’t understand why you’re interested in me.
Don’t put yourself down.
It’s not about putting myself down. I’m dirt-broke and, let’s face it, not in your league, Sam.
What the hell is a league? he replies, and I roll my eyes.
You know what I’m talking about. The way these texts are going, it’s like you want me, but I’ve seen you. I just don’t get it.
You’re making me angry, Katy, he texts. I instantly imagine him in the shirt in the photo, his arms swelling, veins bulging, and power trying to erupt out of him. You’re beautiful. You’re sexy. I don’t give a damn about leagues. That’s the truth.
Tingles dance over my skin. Then I close my eyes, wait a few beats, and open them. The city skyline is still there, the water beyond it, the horizon glistening. It’s an unusually clear morning.
Mom hasn’t touched her sandwich. Eli is already licking his fingers, humming a tune to himself.
“Mom, you should eat something.”
“I will,” she says, staring off into the distance, seeing her personal demons.
I’ve never been called beautiful before, I text Sam, wondering if I’m fishing for compliments, but who cares? It feels so good to think about him wanting me, that powerful body flooding with need all for me.
That’s insane, he replies.
I’ve got to stop myself from rushing forward so quickly. Maybe that’s why I massively kill the mood. How can you do what you do?
I’m familiar with turning off my emotions when it’s time.
I read the words slowly, wishing I could do the same. This wouldn’t be the time to switch them off, would it? This would be the time to let them light me up if I knew he would want me long-term, more than whatever this is, the camera, texting fling. I have to be hard. We won’t be in this fancy apartment forever.
Do you do it to anybody they pay you for? I text, realizing my wording might be confusing. I think he gets the point. Does he kill anyone if the dollar amount is high enough?
No, he replies. I was a SEAL. I injured my shoulder, but I can’t be idle. I can’t function like that, so I signed up with private contractors. That’s how I came into this work. Sometimes, men do bad things to the wrong people. That’s where I come in.
I swallow, struggling to find reasons not to fall for him—not to let my mind dance off into impossible and unhelpful future fantasies. What about the ones who don’t have enough money to pay?
There’s a long pause—minutes. Mom slowly picks up her sandwich and begins to eat like a video playing at half speed. Eli has reclined into the chair, his eyes flitting closed, already snoring. Three dots appear on the screen several times, telling me Sam is typing. Then they disappear.
You make a good point, he finally responds. I’ve told myself I’m doing the right thing, and I am. It’s made me rich. Maybe I need to correct that.
My friend said some people call you a devil, some an angel. Maybe you could lean into the angel side.
Yeah, Katy, but a man only has the luxury of acting like an angel when he’s got a little devil in him.
I feel more tingling as his words tease me. Anyway, thanks for this apartment.
Maybe he’ll get the hint: no more flirty talk. It’s not that I don’t want it, but my mom is right here. My head is a battleground of conflicting thoughts. This is all happening so fast.
You can stay as long as you need, he texts.
That doesn’t really mean as long as I need. It could mean until he’s tired of us. Or until he finds another woman. I wish I could reach through the phone, grab his thoughts, and study them in the midmorning sunlight.
What are your plans for the day? he follows up.
I have to work at one p.m. I was going to ask if I could use the car for that.
You can use the car for anything you want. Where do you work?
An office block. Not far from here, actually. Usually, it takes me hours to get there. I’m a cleaner.
No, Katy, he replies, and I imagine that subtle smirk getting severe. You currently work as a cleaner, but that’s not what or who you are.