Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I tried to remember if I’d taken the time to peek past the dust jackets and see what the books beneath actually were. I hadn’t. Oops.
“Oh. Those books.”
Romeo’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Those books. Have you finished them?”
Oh, they’re finished, all right…
“You could say that…”
“What happened?”
I yawned, covering my hand over my mouth to obscure my next words. “I might have burned them.”
“You burned them.” His jaw ticked. The slightest movement.
If I weren’t paying attention to every painstaking detail of my husband, I wouldn’t have noticed it.
I toyed with the edge of my shirt, staring down at Minnie Mouse. Figured it was too late to apologize. Bygones and all.
“Yeah.” I waved a hand. “Happened ages ago. No need to revisit the past.”
“While we’re at it, we may as well ban history courses. K-through-12 education, too.”
“Mm-hmm. We should.” I nodded fast, beaming at Romeo. “Worked super well for women in the past.”
And nope. Still couldn’t bring myself to apologize.
Why was I like this?
Better question—why was he like this?
I boiled in his potent silence, fanning my cheeks with an unidentifiable linen hardcover.
Romeo continued to type on his laptop. He paused for a moment, unsheathed his old tin can, and fetched a white rectangle from within, popping it into his mouth.
His gum.
I wanted to inch closer. Dive into his past. Sneak a peek of the container, which I noticed for the first time did possess a single flaw. A tiny dent in the corner that marred the otherwise smooth matte surface.
Instead, I made a show of continuing my perusal of his shelves. My fingers brushed each naked spine. The books, I had no problem apologizing to.
In fact, I would’ve held a candlelight vigil, too, if I didn’t think it’d be poor taste, considering how their jackets had met their untimely demises.
I pressed my palms together and offered a silent prayer to each and every one whose skin I’d burnt to a crisp in the bonfire.
Please, Lord, wash me of my sins and find these books a better home in the afterlife. Preferably with someone with taste. The Vast History of Financial Statements? Really?
On the bright side, I’d finally discovered Romeo’s addictions, other than gum and my misery—money. His entire bookshelf consisted of rows upon rows of finance books.
It struck me as odd. I could’ve sworn, based on my stellar snooping skills, that he’d studied engineering during undergrad and focused on Entrepreneurial Management for his MBA.
I slanted my head, realizing something. “You memorized the books I picked up at that indie shop?”
He finally broke his silence and faced me, answering my question between bouts of drilling a hole into my head with his frosty grays.
“Nothing more than a byproduct of my superior memory. No need to revisit the past.” He pried the book from my fingers and wedged it into my mouth, right between my teeth. “Are you done?”
He didn’t wait for me to reply, returning to his laptop.
Spitting the book into my hand, I advanced toward him. “You should get into finance. I bet if you do something you enjoy, you would abandon your Mission Impossible: Getting Back at Daddy for Being a Meanie plan.”
“Great plan. Just neglect my entire career at Costa Indus—”
“It’s not a career. It’s a revenge quest. And it’s childish. It sucks the joy and soul out of you.” I waved the disrobed hardcover nestled in my palm, which was probably titled Generational Wealth: The Imperial History of Mediocre Nepo Babies or something equally snooze-worthy. “You love working with money. Life is too short to not do what you love.”
“Life is long enough that I might get to do both.”
The sudden urge to hug him seized me. “Oh, Romeo. You never know if your next breath is going to be your last. How foolish of you to not seize the moment.”
On the television mounted on the wall beside him, a news segment flashed across the screen.
Hacker Attacks Licht Holdings, LLC.
The rolling headline reported that an anonymous hacker had stolen and duly leaked key blueprints of a new technological weapon online, rendering the entire production worthless.
This had my husband’s fingerprints all over it. The man wouldn’t rest until he had Madison by his throat.
Pouting, I squinted at the segment. “Wow. I didn’t know Zach meddles with hacking.”
Where was he when Sav taped me stuffing my bra with Choco pies at Emilie’s sleepover and leveraged the footage for my limited-edition Jimmy Choos?
Romeo didn’t lift his eyes from his screen, still typing. “He doesn’t.”
I didn’t really expect him to confide in me.
“So, why am I here?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
My heart immediately did jumping jacks, expanding and contracting at record speeds. Pressure built between my legs.
“Can we do it on your desk? Oh! Can I go upstairs and dress like a sexy secretary?”
Finally. An opportunity to use all those pencil skirts Cara had gotten me.