Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Art isn’t exactly flying off the shelves, but we’re doing all right.
“It’s probably the sunshine,” I say. “It makes everyone happy.”
“Happy people buy art?”
“Who knows,” I say with a small shrug. “But we’re happy when people buy art, right? Because it keeps the wolves from the doors. And Whit off my back. “If it keeps going well, you’ll be able to pay rent soon.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your fifty percent.” He gets fifty and the gallery gets fifty, which is pretty standard for in-house sales.
“No, I get ten percent commission if I’m the salesperson.”
Which is why he directs customers to his stuff first.
“It’s five percent. You know it is,” I add when he looks as though he might argue. “Anyway, if your exhibition goes well next week, you might be on the way to getting your own place.”
“You mean I can’t stay with you?” He looks like a toddler whose ice cream just fell off the cone.
“I think Raif might not be so keen on that idea of you as a roommate.”
“No, your place, I mean. Where I live now.”
“Do you think I’m a charity?”
“No, but—”
“I can’t pay the bills indefinitely!”
“No, I know, but…”
“What?”
“I thought you’d be coming back at some point.”
Well, obviously. But I’m not supposed to tell him.
“I’m married, Tod. You remember how that happened, right?”
“Of course, I remember,” he snaps. “How could I forget? Like, ever.”
“When you’re talking about me moving back, it seems like you have.”
“It’s not like it’s gonna last forever, though, is it?”
“What do you mean?” I demand.
“It’s not like a proper marriage. You haven’t fallen in love with him or anything.”
“What?”
“You can’t have—not that quickly. I know it isn’t real!”
“The fucking audacity, Tod!”
“Lavender, I think you only did it for me.”
“What?” I lift my hands, though the sound of the door opening stops me in my tracks. Attempting murder on the premises is not good for business.
My head cranks left, but my body pitches forward as I fall straight into the arms of Tod.
No, not fall. Hauled, as his arms come around me. Well, bloody hell!
“Talk about bad timing,” I mutter. And bad luck as the door swings wide, almost crashing from its hinges as Raif storms inside.
25
RAIF
Bad timing?
“What the actual fuck?” I cross the space in what seems like two gigantic steps, my fingers fastening around the shithead’s collar as I yank him bodily away. “Do you have a fucking death wish?” I demand, shaking him by the cheap linen. Hearing it rend at the seams.
“I’m sorry!” The skinny runt’s protest explodes in a high-pitched squeak.
Rage pulses at my temples as my brain shunts blood toward my muscles, my body preparing to rain down hell on this asshole. He had his hands on her—his hands on a woman who doesn’t belong to him.
She doesn’t belong to you either. My gut twists.
“I didn’t mean to—I thought she was coming onto me.”
Lavender throws up her arms. “That is such bullfuckery, Tod!”
It takes me a moment to process her answer. An admission that she’s not into him. I mean, I know she’s not into him, but she’s the one who announced her love for him. During our fucking wedding ceremony.
“You thought she was coming onto you?” I grate out the question, hamming my anger up for effect. Despite what Lavender would have me believe, this asshole isn’t a threat. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Put him down, Raif. It was crossed wires—it was just a hug.”
Using his shirt, I jerk him closer, exchanging my grip on his shirt for a headlock. “You mean like, put him down… as you would an animal?”
“What?” Her brows pull in, but then she winces, thanks to Tod’s yelp.
“No, don’t do that!” he pleads. “I’m sorry—really sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Lavender looks kind of disgusted. Meanwhile, I’m going to use this situation to my advantage.
“Well? Shall I take him out back?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But he touched you,” I say, exerting a little pressure on Tod’s windpipe. “And he shouldn’t have, right? Because you’re mine.”
“I’m your wife.” She gives a sharp, agitated flick of her shoulder, but she won’t give up the ruse.
“And Tod is nothing to you.”
“Tod is my friend,” she enunciates with a scary kind of civility.
“He’s your pet. Your little lap dog, only he’d like to hump more than your leg.” I shake him again. “I’m gonna rip your balls off without anesthesia,” I whisper menacingly.
“Put him down,” Lavender says. “Put him down, please!”
I loosen my grip, and he stumbles as I growl, “Fuck off.”
“And off he fucks,” my wife mutters glumly, her eyes on his retreating, scuttling form. The front door opens, then closes before her attention shifts back to me. She forces a huffy breath out. “What is your problem?”
I shake my head because I have no idea. She was supposed to be the solution to my problems, not the cause of it. I don’t fucking need this.