Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Huffing, she spun away from me and started down a set of marble steps. “You’re like a Peeping Tom with your ears. A Listening Larry or something.”
I hid my smile. The woman was ridiculous, and I found it way too entertaining. “It’s kind of hard not to listen when you’re talking about a book where the guy used a loaded gun to fuck his girlfriend.”
“Look, the safety was on. She was his captive, not his girlfriend. And he was a mafia lord.” Blake threw her hands into the air when she reached the last step. Like I was the unreasonable one here. “How else were they supposed to spice up their sex life?”
“Masturbation by way of firearms is what you consider ‘spicing’ things up?”
I’d never seen a woman roll her eyes so far back in her head in my life. “It’s fiction. Aka fantasy, Vance,” she said, walking down the huge corridor. “I’ll just go on assuming you’re a debauched deviant with an exigent need for attention.” She glanced over her shoulder. A pleased smile flickered over her face at that mouthful of unnecessary words.
“You realize you have issues…”
“Says the man who Photoshops raccoon-skin hats onto his penis...”
I rounded the corner after Blake, coming face to face with a judgmental glare from a gray-haired woman. I circled a finger by my temple while cutting my eyes toward Blake as I skirted past the lady.
“Fine,” I said, stopping beside Blake, who was staring up at a framed piece of art. “Paul was born from a combination of me getting blackout drunk, making one stupid post that went viral, and my best friend telling me I could make a lot of money on Lonely Fans.”
“Ah, so you’re just avaricious?” She shifted closer to me, pressing up onto her toes to whisper, “It means money grabbing?”
I ignored the way her warm breath teased my throat and shoved down the thoughts of how her uneven pants would feel against my chest while I was fucking her.
“Just like you’re presumptuous?” I made eye contact with her. “The money isn’t for me. My grandma took out loans on her house to help pay for my grandpa’s cancer treatment two years ago. They were so bad off financially they couldn’t afford to keep paying his life insurance, and when he finally passed, she was left with mountains of debt. Not just from the hospital but from the funeral. And the money I’ve made off my Lonely Fans is the only thing that’s kept the bank from foreclosing.”
She dropped back to her feet, losing at least two inches in height. Her gaze met mine and softened. “I’m really sorry…” She touched her hand to my arm. “I had no idea.”
One thing I’d never learned how to accept was sympathy. I hated to think my situation had made someone else feel bad. I shrugged, not looking at her as I moved to another piece of art. “It’s just life, isn’t it?”
“Life can suck sometimes.” We walked past a few more paintings in silence before Blake turned to me. “Want to see how fast we can finish up the last three exhibits?”
“Sure.”
She offered a soft smile, then pulled her phone from her purse and set a timer. If that wasn’t a peace offering from her, I didn’t know what would be.
Chapter Eleven
BLAKE
I’d not properly prepped myself for Vance to disclose, in the middle of the Louvre, that he took dick pics for his grandmother. Wait! Not that he took them for his grandmother, for his grandmother… but that he used the money to help her.
He obviously wasn’t as horrible of a person as I wanted to believe, although I’d love to see Vance explain his way out of the whole him calling me easy thing. Maybe he was a nice guy, but there was still the stench of arrogant asshole wafting around him… And I clung to that like a life raft in a turbulent sea.
After we’d finished at the Louvre, we passed through the flower-filled Tuileries Gardens on our way to the metro. Vance rattled off the rest of the day’s itinerary while I took pictures of the statues in the greenery. I turned to frown at him when he mentioned wanting to tack on a military museum—who came to Paris to go to a military museum? Just as my gaze met his, the sun rolled out from behind the clouds, catching tiny golden flecks embedded in his green irises. I swooned a little. There was no denying the man was pretty, but my admiring him didn’t mean I had a thing for him. At all. Because that would be absurd. No. It would be preposterous. Just like ignoring those flecks in his eyes would have been.
“Blake?” Vance waved his hand in front of my face. “Do you want to go with me or what?”