Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
I eat, and I watch her eat.
She enjoys her idea of the perfect view of me eating, and I’m the same.
This is what I’ve waited for, and this is what I like. Just the two of us, doing what comes naturally and not having to give a shit about anything else.
I could watch her do anything all day, but sitting just the way she is, with her perfect little pink pussy winking at me as she chews?
I’m in heaven and keep eating long after she’s done.
But she doesn’t seem to mind watching me eat either.
When I’m done, I stack up all the plates and napkins, ready to wheel it all back out into the corridor to be collected.
My hand’s on the door handle, and I’m primed to unlatch it and swing it open when a voice from the corridor makes me freeze to the spot.
I lift my hand in reflex, signaling absolute silence, but I’m pretty sure Jasmine isn’t paying attention.
It sounds like she’s gone to freshen up after eating.
The sounds of the faucet running from the bathroom tell me her location.
I slowly press my ear to the door, certain I must be imagining things.
A quick look through the peephole has me almost gasping.
It can’t be.
“You two. I told you, wait by the fucking elevator. I don’t want you clowns ruining it like you did last time.”
Part of me wants to swing the door open, to accuse him of following me.
The other part remembers his own instructions about taking our little kidnap victim away for a few days. And contacting no one.
Not even him.
Not even my own father.
The head of my family.
But seriously. What the actual fuck is he doing here?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jasmine
I wash my hands, feeling like a nap wouldn’t be such a crazy idea, but I’m startled when I walk back out to the lounge to find Rocco so worked up.
Hissing whispers at me, signaling like a maniac for me to get into the bedroom.
In a panic, I just do what he says. My nap idea is long gone as it dawns on me. I might never sleep again if I keep getting startled like this.
One minute we’re snuggled up close, just how I like it, and the next, we’re being hounded again, or so Rocco thinks.
What now? Another old woman following us?
Or is it another tray of food?
Cut the cloak and dagger stuff, Rocco. Let’s just go lie down, please.
But the sound of voices, rough sounding male voices in the hallway, have me zipping my lips.
Rocco’s not playing around anymore either, and I hear the click of his gun cocking long before he opens the door to our suite.
I hear the door click, and then….
Nothing.
Like, literally, I can’t hear a damned thing.
I stand as still and as quiet as I can, but after what feels like a lifetime of not knowing, I have to do it. I peek out through a crack in the door once I edge it open a quarter inch.
I’m on tippy-toes, my heart pounding in my chest the entire time.
But I only see the open suite door and empty hallway.
When I take my first steps out of the bedroom, I’m reminded of just how clumsy and loud I am most of the time.
My weight on the floor makes an old board creak loudly, even from under the luxury carpet.
But in true Jasmine style, I have to make a sound and then startle myself, knocking a huge vase of silk flowers off the table with my big ass.
I can’t help it and make a dull moaning noise, sounding like a wounded animal.
But still….
Nothing. Not a god damned thing happens.
It’s not until I get up the courage to actually go out into the hall that I can see it’s empty for myself.
There’s the slight sound of low voices, but it could be from the room across the hall or my imagination.
My pulse is still pounding in my ears, but I know the noise is coming from the suite across the hall by the time I settle down and listen harder.
Creeping up and looking around to make sure I really am alone, I press my ear to the door.
Rocco’s voice is impossible to miss, so I know he’s in there.
But he sounds calm, like he’s talking with people he knows so I can relax.
I think.
Straining some more, I realize how dumb it feels to listen harder for something I’m not gonna hear any clearer.
These hotel doors and walls are thick because people like their privacy.
But it’s the sound of the elevator pinging open and the sound of new, clearer voices from around the corner that shocks me.
I turn to duck back into our suite, pulling the handle to get in.
But it’s locked. And I don’t have a key to get back in.
I’m also standing in the middle of the dead-end of the corridor, wearing nothing but a hotel robe. And my mobster hero is in another locked suite behind me.