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)
But then he said, “We’re just two friends meeting up and chatting, Brynn. That’s all.”
I smashed my lips together. I would’ve been lying if I said his words didn’t sting a little. Then I became curious about who his wife was. What did she look like? Was she sexier than me? Younger? Older? Why wasn’t she here now . . . or was she around and due to arrive soon?
Oh, God. I wanted to run away. This was so embarrassing—well, that’s what I thought until Dominic leaned in and touched my thigh. My eyes flickered up to his and his mouth was close, the heat of his hand causing a delicious stir in me.
“But perhaps more can come from two old friends wanting to reacquaint themselves again. I’m staying in a private house not too far from here and I’ll be frank with you, Brynn. I’m dying to be inside you right now.” His words came out slow, that honey dripping all over me now, running down and pooling in my chest. “I remember how it was when we were in school. Do you remember? The way you arched your back so perfectly. How you opened up like a flower in bloom. Is it still like that, Brynn? Still warm, wet, and ready for the taking?”
I struggled to swallow and felt an ache between my legs when he pulled his hand away. He drained the rest of his third bourbon and smiled behind the glass, then he placed it down and said, “Gonna run to the men’s room. We can head out of here and discuss things further in the car if you’re cool with that.” He winked on his way, meanwhile my heart was thumping faster than a bunny’s foot.
FOURTEEN
JOLENE
Dominic didn’t come to bed last night. I waited until well after midnight for him before shutting off the nightstand lamp and forcing myself to sleep. I hoped he would come. Knowing someone was trying to break into the house was terrifying, however the police were around, and we made sure to lock up tight. With that in mind, I eventually dozed off.
When I wake up and prepare myself for the day, I venture down the hallway to take a peek inside the guestroom Dominic sleeps in when we’re at odds. He’s there, sprawled out on the bed, one leg hanging off as if he’d thrown himself down after more late-night shenanigans.
I don’t know what he did last night after the attempted burglary. He said he had to make a call after speaking to Frank, but to who? And why so late? He has so many secrets and it’s boggling my mind. It’s like I don’t know my husband at all. Perhaps I never have.
I leave him be and go to the kitchen to start breakfast: whole grain toast, a freshly juiced fruit, and possibly a scrambled egg or two. I start with getting the fruit ready, slicing into oranges and lemons, and taking turmeric capsules to reduce some of my inflammation. I felt the effects of the croissant all night. I bloated like a whale and tried covering up with baggy silk pajamas. Fortunately, today is a new day and I can cleanse it away.
It’s as I’m cracking eggs when Dominic enters the kitchen. I toss the eggshells in the trash bin as he approaches the island counter.
“Wow. You look awful,” I say, picking up the whisk.
“Yeah, thanks,” he grumbles. “I feel it too.”
I look him over in his button-down shirt and creaseless black pants. “Why don’t you sleep in?”
His head shakes before I even complete my sentence. “Can’t. Lots of work to do at the mansion.”
Oh, right. Executive Mansion. He goes there at least three times a week, signing executive orders, for meetings, or to deal with people face-to-face. We were asked if we wanted to reside in Executive Mansion and that was a big hell-to-the-no. I refused to live in a place that reminded me of The Shining. Not to mention the mansion was so public. Besides there being days scheduled for tours, anyone could stand on the streets beyond the wrought iron gates watching us work out, eat, sleep—hell, even have sex.
Staying there would’ve made me feel like a zoo animal, and it was enough being the wife of a governor and literally no one taking me seriously, despite how hard I work for everything I have. A lot of people like to think that because my dad was rich, I didn’t work for a single penny I have when the truth is my father didn’t give me access to a trust fund he’d created for me until I was twenty-six. And prior to that, while in college, I worked a part-time job at a donut shop while studying because he wanted me to have a grasp on the “real world”. He didn’t want everything handed to me, and that was fine. I wanted it that way too. I didn’t want to be like my mother, who sat around with her hand out and her bottom lip in a pout if she had to lift a pinky.