Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
The corner of his lips quirked, but he kept his focus on the flames. “Why don’t you tell me who you think us is.”
I decided to reach for the bottle again. One more glass.
“A drug ring,” I stated, not even flinching.
A deep chuckle had me turning around to look at him.
“And what led you to that assumption?”
I took my glass and sank back into the sofa. “Oh, I don’t know. The ridiculous wealth, the ease at abducting people, the silence of your employees, your getting shot and not going to a hospital but having a doctor on hand.” I stopped my list and cut my eyes at him to see he was still grinning.
“You watch too much television,” he told me.
“All right then, if that’s not it, then please tell me what it could be because it’s something that’s not on the up-and-up.”
“It’s a legacy, a family that one is born into. A powerful one, a respected one.”
I stayed silent, waiting for more, but he didn’t continue and only took another drink.
“It sounds an awful lot like The Godfather,” I joked, wanting him to continue explaining.
He turned his head to look at me. “But we aren’t Italian.”
Again, I waited for more, but he said nothing else. We sat there, our eyes locked on each other, and either I’d had too much to drink or there was a challenge in his gaze. One that seemed to dare me to figure it out. Say what I was thinking aloud. Maybe I had drunk too much.
“Are you trying to say that you are in the Mafia?” I asked, then giggled. Yes, I’d had too much to drink. Just saying it seemed silly.
An amused curl to his lips was the only response I got.
I covered my mouth and composed myself. “I’m sorry. I think the wine is getting to me.”
He continued to study me, as if he was waiting on me to say more. I shifted nervously, wishing he’d stop that.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” I said.
“I did,” he replied.
I shook my head. “No, I’ve had too much to drink, but I would remember that. You have not told me anything.”
He rubbed his jawline with his thumb and forefinger, as if he were thinking deeply. I was momentarily transfixed, however, watching him. Why was it that his arm had to flex with every move? Even the way the muscles in his throat worked was mesmerizing. This man’s sex appeal was lethal.
“I think it’s best we go to bed,” he said, then began to stand up.
I watched him, not following. When he managed to get up slowly without hurting his injured shoulder, he glanced back at me.
“Are you ever going to return me home?” I asked him.
His expression darkened for a moment, and I wondered if I’d said something I shouldn’t.
“Yes,” he replied. “But not tonight. Get up. It’s time for bed.”
Why that didn’t make me feel better, I wasn’t sure. I dropped my legs to the floor and stood up. “I need to take my glass and the wine down.”
“Leave it,” he said, cutting me off as he began walking toward the door that led into the bedroom.
Following him, I decided I’d be sleeping on the sofa tonight. He was doing better, and whatever the doctor had been concerned about last night clearly was no longer an issue.
Thirty-Eight
Hale
The medicine had worn off, and I’d not had enough whiskey to dull anything. I was preparing myself for the pain that would come with lying down. It was bad enough, standing up. At some point today, Bay had come back to the bedroom and made up my bed. She began folding back the covers. I was hoping she’d change into those pink pajamas again, but she was still in the black shorts and cropped T-shirt she’d put on after her shower.
“Thanks,” I told her when she finished fixing the covers so I would just have to sit and lie down without much other movement.
“You’re welcome,” she replied before turning and walking back to the other side of the bed.
I watched her go, enjoying the way her ass looked, until I realized she was going to the sofa, not the other side of the bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She picked up a blanket from the first morning she’d slept there. “Uh, going to sleep.”
I shook my head. “Not on the sofa you’re not.”
She frowned. “You’re getting around fine. I don’t think you need me that close.”
“The bed, Snow. Now.”
Her small fists went to her waist as she stood up straighter. “Don’t order me around.”
“The bed,” I repeated.
“You will sleep better without me.”
“The bed!”
Her shoulders rose and fell dramatically with her frustrated sigh, drawing my attention to her tits as they bounced with the action. I wished she’d take off that damn bra.
“Fine,” she said angrily, then stalked over to the bed as if she were a child being sent to her room.