Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Dubious, he watches me as I slowly sip my coffee. “That’s it?”
“You can use my private jet. It’ll be ready to leave in a day or two. You should get Barney up.” I go to the fireplace and flick my ash in there. “You’re coming to stay with us.”
“What?” Benson blurts, recoiling.
I look at Brad, exasperated. “No, seriously, am I speaking Chi-fucking-nese?” For fuck’s sake. “You. Are. Coming. To. Stay. With. Us.” I take one last puff of my cigarette and throw it in the fireplace. “But, I swear, Benson, if you even look at my wife in a way I don’t like, I’ll—”
“I get it.” His hand comes up, stopping me from finishing my threat. “With respect, Danny, your wife is a beautiful wom—”
“Stop.”
“She’s stunning, b—”
“Shut up, Benson.”
“She’s not my type.”
I recoil, insulted. “What the hell do you mean, she’s not your type?”
“I prefer redheads.”
A choking sound comes from across the room, and I look back to see Brad juggling the coffee cup, the hot liquid all over his hand. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
I roll my eyes and get back to Benson.
“Like I said, she’s beautiful, b—” He finally registers the crazy in my eyes. “I’ll shut up.”
“I highly recommend it,” Brad whispers menacingly from behind. “Can we get home now?”
“You in a rush?” James asks.
“Yes,” he grunts, stomping out.
James shrugs. It’s probably best Brad’s in a bad mood. I’d hate for him to be in a good one and then have to ruin it with the news I’m about to give him.
36
ROSE
* * *
I walk down the stairs with Maggie in my arms, feeling a lot fresher than I have for days. The post-baby high was certainly an adrenaline rush keeping me sane and human for a while. The adrenaline has worn off. I’m exhausted. Danny’s exhausted. Yet last night, our daughter slept for a few hours . . . in a row. It’s insane what a few hours of sleep can do.
As I reach the bottom, the front door opens and Leon walks in, a bag in his hands. “Mrs. B,” he chimes, dropping the bag and coming straight at me. “Aww, she’s getting chubby.”
“What are you doing here?”
He steps back. His chin raises. “I’m fulfilling the request of one of the bosses.”
“Which one?”
“Oh come on, Rose, don’t do this to me.” He grabs the bag and heads for the kitchen. “Any breakfast on offer?”
I follow him, placing Maggie in her crib, watching as Leon dives into the pancakes piled on the island. Esther smiles, offering him syrup and bacon too. “These are so good,” he says, his mouth full.
“Have you got the munchies?” Beau asks as I join her at the island.
He chuckles, powering his way through the pancakes. Leon spends half his life high. But he’s a good kid.
“Hey,” she says. “Fury mentioned Pearl may have had a panic attack yesterday after we left them at the café.”
“She did? She seemed fine.”
“She did,” Beau muses. “But Fury described all the signs, and . . . well, I know.” She shrugs, and I reach for her hand. It’s been a while since Beau has been captured by an attack. I hope those days are long gone for her. “She didn’t want Fury to tell us, so”—her finger meets her lip—“let’s just keep an eye on her.”
“Okay.” I frown at Leon, prompting Beau to too.
“Jesus, Leon,” she says. “No one is stealing the pancakes.”
He suddenly straightens, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Morning,” he mumbles, swallowing.
Pearl wanders in, taking a stool on the other side of the island. “Morning,” she says quietly.
“Hey.” Leon gives her a goofy smile. “You look nice today.”
Pearl lifts a brow as she butters some toast, surprised, then glances down her front. “Thanks . . . I think.” She smiles a little, not a lot, sinking her teeth into her toast, then she seems to drift away with the fairies, lost in thought. I look at Beau. She nods. We definitely need to keep an eye on her.
Leon excuses himself and slips out. With that bag. I watch him go with a narrowed eye. “Anyone seen my husband?”
“He’s—” Pearl coughs, patting at her chest. “Sorry.”
“He’s?”
“The gym maybe?”
“Maybe,” I muse, looking back at the door when Leon disappears. Beau’s hand on mine pulls me back. She shakes her head, like . . . leave it. I nod, reluctant, and she indicates to Pearl with a flick of her eyes in that direction. I fiddle with my coffee cup, turning it in circles. “Are you okay?” I ask.
Pearl nods around a bite, half smiling. It’s a lame attempt to convince us.
“Tea?” Esther asks, holding up the pot, her face hopeful.
“No, thank you,” Pearl says. “I’m just going to see what time Anya’s starting today.”
“Call her,” I say, pointing to her new cell.
“I need . . . a shower.” She dashes off, and I eye Beau who’s watching her go.