Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
He turned to leave the room but a quiet cough from his mother caused him to freeze…and then the prettiest blush tinted his cheeks. Without another word, he eased back toward the table, kissed his mother’s cheek, and whispered, “I love you, Mom.” Turning to Samantha, he did the same.
“For fuck’s sake, Cyn. You’re going to make him a pansy. He’s well past the age of having to kiss his mother goodbye,” Michael growled.
Without another word or acknowledgment that his father had spoken, Micah turned and quietly left us.
And, just like that, the sunshine left the room.
I remained quiet as Samantha read over the notes Micah had added to the contract she’d sent him before we’d boarded the plane to Milan. At one point, she chuckled but made no comment. My eyes and full attention remained on the father. I didn’t like him—for many reasons, probably too many to count. I guess to sum it all up, it would be his blatant disrespect for practically everyone he seemed to encounter. He reminded me of a spoiled brat that had gotten his every desire, without question or any effort on his part. Thankfully, his son was obviously more like his mother. If he’d turned out to be more like his father, I would end up throttling his ass before the assignment was complete.
“He’s a grown man; he should be capable of taking care of himself by now. Hiring additional bodyguards is a waste of money!”
Neither Cynthia nor Samantha looked up as they both read over the contract. Cynthia did, however, calmly say, “He’s nineteen years old, Michael. That hardly places him in the grown man category. On top of that, you’ve had him modeling since he was eight years old. It isn’t as if he’s had time to receive any type of self-defense training that might assist with him taking care of himself. Anyway, it’s a moot point; Micah has made his decision, and there’s really not anything either of us can do to revoke that.”
Michael grunted in disgust. “No, I guess not since you helped our son, our only child, get legally emancipated. You obviously think he’s capable of caring for his own business but not protecting himself like a man should be able to? That sends out an awesome message, Cyn. Hell, I took care of myself when I was his age, maintaining the same high-profile career that Micah has. If I could do it, he should be able to, as well.”
For the first time since I’d been in the room, Cynthia raised her sky-blue eyes, identical to those of her son, and glared at her ex-husband. “You took care of yourself on your knees, Michael. Is that what you want for Micah? To fuck his way to the top?”
Michael moved so fast that his chair toppled over. “How fucking dare you say that? I was at the top because I was the best in the damn business.” His hand fisted. “Do you need another reminder of how well I know how to defend myself, Cyn?”
Oh, hell, no. He did not just threaten a woman in front of me. I stood up, much slower and in complete control. At three inches over six foot, I towered over the other man. “I wouldn’t recommend that, Mr. Gentry. From the moment you put money above your son’s safety, I’ve been looking for a reason to put you on the ground. Go ahead, give me one. I’ll show you the difference between fighting a woman and fighting a man.”
His eyes narrowed angrily, but he took a step back. Too bad—I’d hoped he was a complete fool and would be stupid enough to come at me. Then, like a high school kid, he yanked up his stuff, told us all to go fuck ourselves, and stormed out the door.
After the door slammed, Samantha, never looking up from the contract, asked, “Tell me again why you haven’t already let me hire a hit man to get rid of him?” She sat the contract down. “No, better yet, I’d like to kill him myself. You never once told me he hit you, Cyn.” She placed her hand over the top of her best friend’s trembling hand and asked, “Why did you never tell me?”
Cynthia laughed sadly. “Because I knew you would kill him, Sammie. I didn’t want that for you. He was my mistake; I’m the only one that should pay for it.”
Unable to stop myself, I asked, “Is your son paying for it, as well?”
A tear slipped down her face, and I immediately regretted my question. Immediately. Fuck, I struggled dealing with women and their emotions. No wonder Meredith had left me without a backward glance. She’d been able to handle that I was bisexual and we’d often brought another man into our bed, but my big fucking mouth had been more than she could deal with. “I apologize. I should not have asked that.”