Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I stare at him, trying to gauge if he’s kidding or not, but Erick rarely jokes. “You think I should stalk her? For real?”
“Why not? Beats the hell out of you sitting at this shitty bar getting drunk with your brother.”
“But that’s why you’re here,” I say, gesturing around.
“Eh, excuses.”
“You’re insane. Our whole family is insane.” I lean forward on my elbows, take another drink, and think about following Isabel around.
It’s not the worst thing in the world.
I mean, she’ll freak out if she catches me—but what if she doesn’t? At the very least, I can watch her from a distance and make sure she’s okay. I can take care of her, even if that’s not what she wants.
It’s not the same as having her in my life, but it’s close.
And hell, isn’t that what Adler did to his current wife?
Maybe that shit can work for me.
Even though I’m nowhere near clinically insane like my eldest sibling.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Erick says, bumping me with his elbow. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“Something,” I say at last. Hating Erick for pushing me to this point. But also, kind of glad he did. “Maybe I’ll stalk her, maybe not, I don’t know.”
“But you’ll do something.”
“Something,” I agree.
“Sounds like a plan.” He knocks back his whiskey. “You know what sucks about California? No gambling. That’s some bullshit.”
“Vegas isn’t a far drive. You could always go home.”
He grunts at me, rolls his eyes, and gets up. “I’m gonna go find somewhere better to drink. Too many fucking suits around here. Figure out your shit.” Then he walks off, hands shoved in his pockets.
Fucking Erick. The guy’s bizarre. I’d worry about him getting behind the wheel while drunk, but he doesn’t actually drive.
He made some good points. I’m not the kind of man that sulks, and all I’ve been doing is beating up on myself for the mistakes I’ve made.
But what if I stopped feeling sorry, and started fixing the situation?
I want to be with Isabel.
That’s my primary goal at this point.
Be with her. Marry her. Wife her up. Fuck her until she’s carrying my children. Own her delicious little pussy and absolutely never let her get away again.
Only she doesn’t trust me.
She thinks I’ll get her hooked, make her love me, and leave her broken-hearted.
I’d never do that, and I have to make sure she knows it.
“Fucking Erick,” I mutter as I get up from the bar and go back to work.
Chapter 37
Isabel
I don’t answer the phone when Conlan calls. I don’t respond to his texts, and I try not to read them.
The second I let myself talk to him is the moment I let down my guard.
Days pass. Allison doesn’t ask me about the deleted voicemails and the way I studiously ignore any mention of Conlan or anything resembling his family. I even change the channel on TV if an advertisement for any hotel comes on.
I keep thinking she’s going to leave, but she doesn’t. Instead, she practically moves in and falls into a shockingly normal schedule. She’s up at eight, out of the house most of the day, and home by six. We eat dinner together, talk about things, she ignores my questions about what she’s doing here, and things settle into a routine. I keep applying for jobs, I keep getting rejected, and I get a single interview at that stupid diner. I schedule it because I’ve got nothing better.
“I have to tell you something,” Allison says after a week of being in my house. “And you’re not going to like it.”
“Okay.” I sit down at the island with her. I’m picturing big parties, older men, lots of drugs. We both have a glass of wine. I feel bad that I’m letting a teenager drink, but it’s one glass, never more, and I figure she’d do worse if I tried to fight it. “That’s ominous.”
“Yeah, it’s totally ominous, but hear me out before you start shouting, okay?” She takes a deep breath. “I’ve been working at the Lincoln.”
My eyes go wide. I don’t start shouting, but I kind of want to.
This is even worse than what I was imagining.
“Okay,” I say, doing my best to keep a straight face while seething on the inside. I feel strangely betrayed, but it’s not like Allison owes me anything.
“Right, I can tell you’re pissed, and my conflict resolution tactics all revolve around running away from the problem, so let’s try not to freak out on each other, okay?”
“Sure.” Deep breaths. Slow, deep breaths. “Why are you working at the Lincoln?”
“I went back the day after I came here and asked if I could keep on planning parties. Lisa said it was fine, and eventually Conlan approved it, so here I am.”
“Wow. Okay.” I rub my temples. I feel a headache blossoming. “You’re working at the Lincoln with Conlan.”