Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
He tails the car until it pulls into the lot of a retro motel called Scarlet Star. He doesn’t drive into the lot, but he does swing onto the road next to it and watches the witch exit the Uber, climb the stairs, and prance into one of the rooms of the motel.
Wait a minute. Why is she in a motel? Why doesn’t she have a house or an apartment? Could this mean she isn’t from North Carolina? What Boaz said hits Dominic like a pound of bricks about Brynn possibly having friends who knew about their night together. Had Brynn told anyone about their date? If she had, that person would know who he is . . . but why would they be bothering him now? Even if they are curious, why not come directly to him? Surely, they weren’t there the night he and Boaz dealt with Brynn. What happened with her wasn’t even supposed to happen. It was an honest mistake.
Dominic drives away from the motel with more questions than answers. His phone rings, and it’s Melissa calling to let him know about a meeting at 12:30. He tells Melissa he’ll be there and along the way, it becomes clear to Dominic that he’d underestimated this witchy woman. Now, he must find out everything about her.
EIGHTEEN
BRYNN
It took me a minute to gain my composure after Dominic’s invitation to his private rental. When Dom rounded the corner to reach the restrooms, I sat back in my seat and took a huge swallow of my sugary cocktail. As I took another gulp, I noticed a white light emanating from Dom’s seat.
His cellphone.
He left it there, or perhaps it fell out of his pocket when he stood.
I glanced toward the restrooms, then at the phone again. I wasn’t sure what took over me in that moment. I wanted to see what was behind that screen, get a look at his life and figure out what his wife looked like. I shouldn’t have cared at all about this woman. I mean, I’d been flirting with her husband all night and was possibly even going to sleep with him. And perhaps I was a glutton for punishment because I knew beforehand that nothing good would come from checking this man’s phone, but I grabbed it anyway.
The phone had a code, one I saw him enter several times throughout the night–060383. His birthday. What? I couldn’t help watching him type the pin in. It was hard not to look when he sat so close to me.
The phone unlocked, and the first thing I saw was a text message from a person named Jo. I didn’t know if Jo was a man or woman, but their message said: Can you squeeze a call in?
I scrolled through their texts until an image appeared and at the sight of it, it felt like an elephant had stepped on my chest. Jo was a woman, and not just any woman. This was his wife.
The photo appeared to be professionally taken of Dominic and Jo. Jo wore a navy-blue dress with mid-length sleeves, while Dominic wore a suit to match. His arm was draped around her waist, while she leaned into him with a hand on his chest as they both smiled at the camera. An American flag was in the background, along with a sofa that couldn’t have been comfortable and was clearly there for display purposes. Gold drapes hung from the corners. Below the photo was a text from Jo saying: Look, babe. Campaign pics came in! This one is my favorite!
My nose wrinkled as I frowned at it. It wasn’t that the photo wasn’t nice, because it was, but it was his wife who I couldn’t stop staring at. She was beautiful, with round apple cheeks and coily dark hair. Her sable skin was aglow as she smiled into the camera, her brown eyes soft and wise. She’d seen things. Been through things. I could tell. But beautiful, nonetheless, so why was Dominic wasting his time with me?
I swiped off the photo and scrolled through their messages, seeing texts like:
I’m so proud of you, Dominic.
You’re going to soar, babe. I just know it.
Don’t forget to wear the black suit today with the red tie. And the dressing for your lunch is on the top shelf of the fridge.
Chicken risotto or chicken parm tonight? Can’t decide. Help?
Love you, Dom Bomb!
Before Dom returned, I put the phone back in place and requested another drink from the waitress. Dom was out of the bathroom but stopped to speak to the waitress while fishing out his wallet. While he did, I whipped out my phone and snapped pictures of the stage, where the performers were, then some of the details on the walls, the portraits. Finally, I took a selfie, making sure to capture Dom in the background as he handed the waitress a credit card. I looked amazing, and I could see him clearly, despite the dim lighting so I sent the image to Shavonne, who responded with: Wait . . . isn’t that the ex you told me about?