Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Dani pulls out a lemon and squeezes it a little bit, rolling it between her beautiful hands. She cups it for a moment in her palms, likely warming it, before she slices it and squeezes fresh lemon juice over our salad. Next comes freshly ground pepper and a dash of sea salt.
“My mother was a perfectionist, so she didn't like to even make her kitchen dirty. She would microwave her vegetables, and sometimes use the crockpot for meat. We used paper plates and napkins, and disposable utensils, so every day the regular dishes and the cabinets would stay clean. My mother was a good mom, but the whole food thing… not so much. What about you?"
Something tells me my upbringing was very different from hers.
“We had a private chef," I tell her with a shrug. "My parents had a lot of money. My mom hated to cook, and my dad was never home. We ate really well, but it was a cold and sterile environment.”
She nods, as if she understands. I wonder if she does. "Where did you grow up?"
"Right here, just outside of Boston.”
She places the two bowls of salad and a loaf of crusty bread on the table, alongside a little crock of butter. “Sit,” I tell her as she turns and begins loading the dishwasher.
I can see the hesitation in her face. “What is it?”
She shrugs. “I was just wondering when the last time I sat down to have a meal was.” She laughs. “I pretty much live on Emmy’s leftovers, protein bars, and occasionally some takeout, while standing over the kitchen sink.”
“You deserve better than that, Dani.”
Her eyes grow a little sad and she shrugs, wiping down the counter. “Maybe.”
I reach for her hand and tug her into the chair across from me. “Not maybe.”
Everything in me continues to warn me that this is a bad idea. Every time she opens her mouth, every time she looks at me, every time I breathe, every time she touches me… A little bit of my resolve crumbles.
I can almost justify what we're doing. Almost.
But not entirely.
Emmy falls asleep after her show, leaving me and Dani alone. Dani tucks her quietly into bed and joins me in the living room.
"I have a few more clients this afternoon," she begins with a sly smile.
"Your client unfortunately has to get to another meeting before tonight. So maybe you can actually take a little time for yourself for once," I suggest.
I stand from the couch, and I want to gather her in my arms. I want to kiss the pretty pink flush on each cheek. I want to kiss her forehead. I want to taste her.
I do none of those things. "Thank you for lunch.”
She doesn't trust me yet. There's a magic in her massage studio, and it feels very different here where I'm on her turf, in her home, with the child of the man that I killed sleeping in the other room.
CHAPTER NINE
THE DEMONSTRATION
Dani
Standing in the doorway with Ricco, I feel like it’s the end of a date and now it’s time to kiss.
Or not.
I'm smart enough to know that what we're doing is dangerous. I'm smart enough to know that allowing him into my home, doing… life with him, is probably more dangerous than anything.
I bite my lip. “We didn't get to… practice," I say, leaning back against the doorframe, because if I stand outside with him and talk about practicing what we're going to do tonight, I'm not sure how to handle that. I'm not even sure what it is we are doing tonight.
He gives me the kind of grin that makes his eyes crinkle around the edges. I have to remind myself that he's a dangerous man. Because right now, he's making my heart do all sorts of fluttery things, and I'm about to pretend that he's a good man. That he doesn't belong to the Montavio family. That he's not a criminal who's hiding things from me and I know it.
I’m pretending that this isn’t an accident waiting to happen. That my Prince Charming has arrived, my dream man come to earth.
"Come early."
"I'm not sure if I can. I'll have to see when Sarah is free."
"Who's Sarah?”
"My sister. She's watching Emmy tonight."
Reaching for my hand, he strokes his thumb along the back of it, a natural move that makes my whole body settle, as if the universe pauses for the smallest fraction of a second to say… This. Pay attention. It matters.
I swallow and get my shit together. He’s talking, and I haven’t heard a word he’s said.
“If you can come early, definitely do so. If not, I'm going to send you a voice message to review. I don't want you to be taken off guard, and I want you to be completely comfortable with tonight's demo. If you're not, we're not going ahead with it, and that's okay.”