Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
So, I used my study to do the books, keeping track of every dollar spent and every dollar earned. It was boring as fuck and not my thing, but I noticed I didn’t have a single problem with any of my guys afterward. I had a more intimate understanding of my business than anyone else, so I knew my shit.
Instead of looking at the open laptop on my desk, I looked at the painting across the room. Stared at it for minutes at a time. Got lost in the disturbing beauty. Remembered the afternoon I’d bought it with acute clarity.
Then she walked in wearing little jean shorts and a white camisole, her long hair like a curtain of silk, her face free of makeup because she’d skipped it that morning. Her eyes were somehow more stunning without eyeshadow and mascara. When I’d stared at her across the restaurant dressed in her finest, I’d wanted to fuck her brains out, but when she looked like this, I desired her just the same.
Her eyes met mine, and there was a moment of hesitancy, like my presence intimidated her. Even after all this time, after all we’d been through together, she still hesitated around me.
Good.
She was barefoot as she entered, dressed for the day but without anywhere to go. Her hair was tucked behind her ear on one side and fell free on the other. She approached my desk but stopped before she came into contact with it. “Good morning.”
I didn’t say it back.
“You were up early.”
“I don’t sleep well.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” She looked out the open window behind me to the view outside. Her gaze stayed for a few seconds before she looked at me again.
I didn’t know what she wanted, but I suspected she had a reason for being there because she didn’t come into my study often. She kept herself busy in her room before she went to work.
When I rose from the chair, she flinched slightly.
I tried not to smirk.
I came around the desk and faced her, having to drop my chin because she was even shorter than usual without shoes. I was in my sweatpants and nothing else, feeling warm now that spring was here.
She moved into me, her arms circling my waist as she pressed a kiss to the bottom of my pecs where her lips reached me. She rose on her tiptoes to kiss me at a higher spot, close to where my heart sat.
Her affection dispelled my foul mood, and my hand slid into her hair and pulled it from her face as my arm circled her waist. I pulled her into me as I brushed a kiss to her hairline, hit with the scent of her shampoo and perfume, smelling like a flower garden.
Her little body relaxed in my hold, like she’d been holding on to unseen tension.
I held her against me, letting her use me as a crutch against the invisible anchor that pulled her to the seabed. “Something on your mind, sweetheart?” I spoke the question I didn’t want to ask, afraid she would say the one name I didn’t want to hear. Bolton had hidden his tracks well. Was smart enough not to tell even his closest guys where he was. I’d tracked down a few and killed them when it was clear they didn’t know anything.
She rested against me for another moment, and then she pulled away. Her eyes were down for a second before she had the strength to look at me. “I should have picked you when you came into the gallery, and I’m so sorry I didn’t.” The remorse was in her eyes, along with the self-loathing, like this truly kept her up at night.
And I didn’t think about it at all. “We’re past this, sweetheart.”
“I know, but…”
“But what?”
“When I was with Scarlett last night, she told me Axel would stop at nothing until he had her. It reminded me of you.” Her eyes flicked down again. “That you’re my Axel, and I was too stupid to realize that at the time. I should have forgiven you.”
I watched her try to process all of this, beating herself up for the poor decision she’d made. I’d thought this was in the past, but it seemed to still be worrying her. “I’m the kind of man who holds grudges. For years. Even decades. But I hold nothing against you, sweetheart. Don’t hold anything against yourself.”
She looked up at me, the surprise in her green eyes.
“The situation was never black-and-white. Our feelings in the present change our memories of the past. Don’t forget the context of that moment. Don’t forget the things I did to hurt you.”
She continued to stare at me.
“Let it go, sweetheart.” My hand continued to cradle her face, keeping her look on mine as I stared at her beautiful face.