Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“And she’s going back to Florida later this year.” Don’t make a hole in your life for me. I’m not going to be here long enough to fill it. The echo of her words makes my chest feel tight.
“Plans change.” His hands fall open, his tone reasonable.
“She’s pretty adamant about it, and my life is here. Anyway, I’m too busy for a relationship,” I find myself saying.
“And so we tell ourselves. Of course, you have your siblings as well.”
I slant him a look. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned my family dynamics to him. We aren’t friends. He’s a major investor—a mentor, even—but that’s it.
“Don’t look so worried. Olivia tends to know these kinds of things, things that then come into the sphere of my existence whether I’d like them to or not.”
“Well, my family is fine. The only issue is their sheer number.” It makes for more opinions and more drama. If I take Polly’s perspective, it also means more love.
“I hear it won’t be long before you become an empty nester.”
“I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, but I live alone,” I say with a hint of amusement. “They don’t live with me.” Because my apartment is the only place I get any peace in the world. Except when Mimi’s there, and that’s more than all right with me. Maybe I need to blow up her aunt’s house for definite so she’s stuck with me. Then tie her to the bed to stop her from going on a fucking date tonight.
“Squeeze that phone any harder, and it will become a permanent part of your hand.”
Sure enough, a shard of hard plastic has already pierced my skin. This is ridiculous, I think as I drop it back on the table. This isn’t me. This isn’t how I operate. It’s all just so fucked up. I know the reasons she’s given me, but I’m not buying them. I know she’s scared. Scared of getting too involved? Scared of falling for me, but guess what? She’s not the only one. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to be with her. Just the opposite.
“You take your responsibilities as the eldest sibling very seriously. There’s no getting away from that, it’s in your genetic makeup.” He folds up a forestalling hand as I begin to speak. “But what I meant to say is your responsibilities are coming to an end, I understand. The chicks will fly the coop, as they do.”
I shake my head. He has no fucking idea. “They might leave and they might not, but it doesn’t matter because my life, my job, my life’s work, if you will, is London. And Mimi fully intends on going back to Florida. In fact, as of this evening, she’ll be out on a date with someone else, some other fuck who isn’t me, just to prove it.” I snap my mouth shut. I can’t believe I fucking told Beckett—of all people! This is not the type of relationship we have.
“And you’re just going to take it?” He quirks a brow that might as well spell out you’re an idiot across his forehead.
“Well, I could take a leaf out of your book I suppose.”
“What do you have for leverage?”
“I was fucking joking!” I say with a laugh. “And no, I don’t want to sit here and just take it. But short of a possible kidnap and false imprisonment charge, what can I do?”
I want to lock her up, of course I do. It’s what the caveman in me wants—to throw her down on my bed and show her in no uncertain terms what she was built for. I want to bind her to my side and demonstrate over and over again how right we are together. Instead, I’ve played my reactions down. Shown little response to her plans and little interest in reasons. The only part of her I’ve shown interest in is her pussy, I realize belatedly.
“What can you do? Let me see… off the top of my head?” He actually taps the top of his head. “Tell her not to? Or what about, now here’s a revolutionary idea,” he adds with much sarcasm, “show her you’re a better option. A better bet. A better man. One worth risking her heart on. Because if you let her do this, if you let her go, you will regret it,” he says, all stiff upper lipped once more. And a little nihilistic. “Go home, Whit. Sort this idiocy out.”
“Tomorrow we’ve got—”
“Frankly, I don’t need you here. Your good cop requires a glass of scotch and a couple of Xanax.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Your usual diplomacy and aplomb are shot to fuck. You’re no use to the negotiations in your current mood.”
“That’s not true,” I grate out, refusing to sit here like a scolded kid.
“And if tomorrow you go back to London and find that she’s involved herself with another man, would there be any coming back from it for you? Would it aid your performance?”