Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 63563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
But I know it’s not right.
Ash might have helped me in some pretty obvious ways and in some non-obvious ways too. He helped my dad, and it all feels really nice, but there are facts I can’t forget or escape. His family still damaged ours. I can’t just forget that and begin to forgive it.
Plus, my boss is still waiting for a story. I still need a job and want to keep my job. It might not be where I imagined myself working or where I wanted to end up, but it’s a foot in the door into the industry I love and have always wanted to work in. This could be my big chance to get somewhere. To make enough money to pay my dad’s bills and keep paying for his therapy once Ash figures out I betrayed him, starts hating my family and me, and stops doing us any more favors. I could give the story to my boss, or I could take it somewhere else, sell it, and probably not have to work very hard for a long time to come. At least I could take care of some of our worries and check off a couple of boxes on the long list of things I need to pay for but can’t because my salary sucks.
That’s a fact. I know I have to betray Ash. I mean, it’s not like I’m really his maid. And even if I were, he would fire me after this, so yeah. No story, no job. No fake job as a maid, no paycheck. No paycheck, no apartment. No apartment means I’d have to move in with my dad, and even though that wouldn’t be horrible or anything, it still wouldn’t help us pay the bills or keep him going to therapy.
And what if I didn’t betray Ash? What if I took this, ran with it, and we learned together that maybe love isn’t such a fucked up thing, and it’s possible to start somewhere and make a good go of it? My parents did, after all. They lost out in the end, but they never lost their love. My mom had to leave before any of us were ready, but we all still love her like crazy. Maybe Ash and I could have that.
No, that’s just crazy. It’s the curse.
Ash’s heartbeat goes on steadily beneath my ear, and his warmth surrounds me. His scent is all rich and spicy and sweaty when I inhale, and yes, it’s a good smell. It’s the smell of twisted sheets, wild romps, and pleasure I never thought possible. It’s also the smell of rightness, a good connection, and something I’ve never experienced with anyone.
It’s the curse. The curse, I tell you, the curse.
Whomp, whomp, whomp. Ash’s heartbeat goes on steadily. His breaths are deep and even, with a little snort on the end of one that is so adorable, it makes my heart want to break into a thousand tiny pieces. Already. It can’t be happening already. This man is my enemy, my way out. This man needs to be served some ice-cold vengeance.
But he did not do anything. It was all his granny’s fault.
Still. Him and me, we have no future.
My hand is nestled on Ash’s solid chest, right by my face. I open my eyes and stare into the surface of the ring. It flashes back at me like a wink.
Oh my god. Oh my god, it’s so obvious. All this time…
I know how to break the curse.
I might not want to, but I have to. Because. This. Isn’t. Real. Life. It would never work. It’s better that I just wreck everything now, and we hurt a little in our own respective ways than it is to hurt a lot later when we get attached and, of course, things don’t work out.
Most of the time, these things never work out.
I carefully detach myself from Ash, which involves a good few minutes of slowly untangling our legs and getting out from under his heavy, protective, and muscly arm. I leave him lying there, in his big bed. Alone. But I do pull the sheet and blanket up around him. Because New Orleans is so cold in the summer and all that, not because I actually care.
I’m as silent and deadly as a fart—maybe not the best simile to use here, but I guess it’s true—as I tiptoe down the hallway to the guest bedroom where I have my things. The door has a lock on it, which is useful when committing entirely nefarious deeds.
I pull out the laptop I brought over with my change of clothes, take out my recorder, and get to work.
CHAPTER 16
Ash
Mornings have never been my strong point, but I’ve never hallucinated before—case in point, the flashy ring on my nightstand.
Wait, what? What flashy ring on my nightstand?