Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
You’ll be sad when I’m gone.
The truth was it probably wouldn’t impact her much at all, beyond the sadness that an honorary member of the family had died. Yet still, I stared at the screen, waiting for another message. Kat didn’t disappoint.
Of course I will. Then I’ll have to find someone else to sneer at me for the next twenty years.
“What?” I shook my head at the message, reading and re-reading it to make sure I’d read it right. Kat thought all those longing looks I tried to conceal as derisive sneers.
That was better than her knowing the truth and feeling obligated to give the old it’s not you, it’s me speech. I refused to touch that message, knowing my denial would only make her believe it was true.
“Did you have a question, Mr. Manning?”
I blinked and looked up at the freckle-faced chef with the earnest smile. “Sorry, no. That was a rhetorical question,” I stammered.
“Okay, then. The wine has sufficiently breathed. I can pour you a glass if you’d like.”
“Sure.” I wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but this was the meal that Kat had picked out for me, to say thanks for saving her sweet little ass, so I would indulge. Completely. “Thank you.”
I took a tentative sip and paid attention as she enthusiastically detailed the wine's flavor profile, its subtle undertones, and its full-bodied nature. I didn't grasp the nuances, nor did I particularly care.
“Damn good wine, thanks.”
Within a matter of minutes, Jack and his freckle-faced companion skillfully arranged a sumptuous, four-course gourmet Italian feast before me. I enjoyed every single bite and savored the flavors and thoughtfulness behind the meal.
All courtesy of one sexy as fuck Kat Ashby.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kat
What truly set the Emerald Isle casino apart from the Black Stallion, was the delightful gem known as The Cute Parisian Bistro.
As the name indicated, it was a cute little Parisian style bistro complete with wrought iron tables and chairs, an ever-changing chalkboard menu, and the subtle allure of French pop music playing softly through strategically placed speakers.
It was my favorite place to have lunch, especially when I felt particularly ravenous, like today. Their steak sandwiches, tender and bursting with flavor, were served with a side of rich au jus, while their thick steak fries were so indulgent that I knew I'd be paying for it at the gym later.
Sure, I could have savored this culinary masterpiece at my desk with the help of my assistant, but today was different. I was exhausted, and the clock had barely struck one.
I needed a break, so I surrendered to the allure of The Cute Parisian Bistro, where I could indulge in people-watching for a blissful forty-five minutes, right in the vibrant heart of the Emerald Isle.
I loved to people watch, to figure out the intimate details of people’s lives just by observing them without their knowing it. Was that couple in the corner enjoying a secret rendezvous, or was it as innocent as it appeared on the surface? Were those retirees undercover officers or worse, were they like the couple staying in one of the Mueller Suites?
“Hey, you’re Katherine Ashby, right?”
The sound of my name took my gaze from the teenagers who’d just bounced in looking way too fashionable for the middle of a school day. They were either older than they looked or playing hooky to meet up with some older guys, the same way I had when I was their age. Except I had enough sense to get lost in the bigger casinos that Vegas had to offer.
The question came from a young girl who looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen. The thin layer of dirt on her skin and the ill-fitting clothes pegged her as a runaway.
“Who’s asking?”
She snorted and rolled her eyes, a move that added about two extra years of attitude. “Cute. Look, I know you’re her because I looked you up online and there are a lot of photos of you. A lot. You run this place, is that true?”
The next shakedown is always around the corner, another of those life lessons from dear old Dad. Another tip that had turned out to be more useful than not over the years. I didn’t get the scam artist vibe from this girl, not yet anyway, so I proceeded with caution.
“What can I help you with…?”
“Madison,” she filled in with a sigh. “My name’s Madison.”
I nodded and motioned for her to sit in the unoccupied chair. “have a seat, Madison with no last name. What can I do for you?”
She dropped down in the chair with a reluctant huff and leaned on her elbows with a frown on her face.
“You can tell me why you’re offering safe harbor to freaks and pervs and murderers.” Her voice got louder as she went on and then lowered as she looked around, noticing her volume had drawn stares.