Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
The bouncer looks my way as I burst out of the club. It occurs to me belatedly that maybe I should’ve told someone before I left. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get right back in. There’s a line to get into the club, and I don’t want to have to wait to go back inside.
I look up and tell the man on the other end of the call the name of the club I’m at.
I did it because he told me to and I’m bad at falling short of people’s expectations of me, but as I stand alone on the sidewalk outside the noisy club, it occurs to me… I could be putting myself into danger if I get into this stranger’s car.
I don’t want Jackson to be in trouble, but I don’t want to endanger myself for him, either. If Jackson did something stupid and now he’s in trouble for it, that was his choice. I’m not even his girlfriend anymore; it’s certainly not my job to bail him out.
I don’t really believe he would deliberately put me in danger, though. He may have been a crappy boyfriend, but surely he’s not that much of an asshole.
Once I’ve told the man on the phone which club I’m at, I try to go back through the door I exited out of, but it turns out it doesn’t go both ways.
Shit.
I walk over near the bouncer and lean over the rope to get his attention. “Excuse me.” His hard gaze meets mine. “Hi. Um, I was inside with my girlfriends, it’s my best friend’s bachelorette party—I’m the maid of honor. I had to step outside to take a phone call, but now I need to go back in and tell my friend I have to leave. Can I slip back inside real quick?”
He shakes his head. “No can do.”
“But… I’ll only be two minutes. I just need to run in and tell my friend—”
“If you want to get back through this door, you’ll have to wait in line like everybody else.”
Shit.
“All right. Thank you,” I murmur.
I turn around to face the road, sighing into the phone still pressed against my ear.
The line has been silent for so long, I half-expected the man on the other end had hung up and I just hadn’t noticed, so I’m surprised when he suddenly speaks again.
“Do you typically thank people for giving you an answer you don’t like?”
Frowning faintly at his question, I explain, “I was being polite.”
“Was he?”
“He was only doing his job. I’m the one who walked outside without thinking to ask if I’d be allowed back in.”
“So it’s your fault,” he murmurs, sounding more interested than I would expect him to.
“Actually, it’s yours,” I tell him.
He sounds surprised. “Mine?”
I nod, forgetting he can’t see me. “You called me on the phone—who does that but psychopaths? And you sounded so bossy, I was unnerved. Ordinarily, I would’ve asked before I exited if I needed a stamp to get back in the club, but…”
“I unnerved you,” he says, sounding almost pleased at the notion.
That should unnerve me, but there’s something calming about the man’s voice. There’s a confidence, a capableness I pick up even without ever having met him. “How do you typically respond when people give you an answer you don’t like?” I ask.
His answer is simple. “I don’t accept answers I don’t like.”
Smiling faintly, I say, “That’s a bit unrealistic, isn’t it? We all have to hear answers we don’t like sometimes. That’s life.”
“For some people, maybe.”
“For everyone. Nobody can win all the time.”
When he speaks again, there’s something almost fond in his tone. “I very much look forward to meeting you, Miss Meadows.”
I glance down at the dirty sidewalk beneath my nude heels. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“Yes,” he says, as if waiting for me to explain why it’s relevant.
I smile faintly. “That hardly seems fair.”
“Do you expect life to be fair?”
I shrug. “I don’t expect it, but it would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
“Not for me,” he says wryly.
Ignoring the implication that he might live on the wrong side of Karma, I say, “You’re really not going to tell me your name?”
“I’ll tell you my name when we meet in person. My driver’s nearby, he should be there in a few minutes.”
“Where is he taking me?”
“He’s bringing you to me.”
His words shouldn’t send a shiver down my spine. Or maybe they should, I don’t know. I’ve never had a man say something like that to me before.
“And where are you?” I ask.
“Purgatory,” he answers.
I frown, unsure whether he’s being cute or naming a real place I’m just unaware of. “Paying for your sins?”
“No, I haven’t sinned yet. Not tonight, anyway.”
“If you’re already in purgatory, you better not,” I advise. “You’ll never make it to heaven that way.”