Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
My dad’s eyes enlarged. “Under control?”
I was still shouting at him, Ashton’s hand covering my mouth, but now I started reaching for him. Ashton was like a cement wall. I couldn’t move an inch, so I tried kicking for him, though that was just a comedic experience by now because Monteyo started taking my dad to the door.
Worthing stayed back, moving backward until his partner and my father were through the door. He stopped.
Ashton’s hand fell from my mouth, and I almost fell forward but caught myself.
I quieted because a whole new awareness had fallen over the room, with just those two staring at each other.
“Really?” Worthing asked, though it sounded more like a statement.
Ashton’s words came out like ice. “Really.”
Worthing moved closer to the door. “We don’t have to be enemies.”
“Your last name says otherwise.”
His phone made a buzzing sound. He grabbed it but gave one last lingering look at Ashton before leaving.
I swung around to Ashton. “What was that about?”
No reaction. Nothing. He just turned to me. “He thinks we’re fucking, and now your father does too. That’s unfortunate, for him.”
Fucking?! What?
Why—
“Heading out, boss?” Elijah asked.
Ashton gave him a nod, and Elijah left as well.
My blood was still pumping, but I was able to think a bit clearer. I followed Ashton as he went to my office. “You told him what? Why? You told me that you wanted to use me to do something for you. I thought that was about the cops. Is that what that was? But sex? You and me? What was all of that about?”
My heart was speeding.
Ashton went over and began shutting down my computer, which I was now clueing in had a whole new look on the screen before it went black. I pointed at it. “What’d you do to my computer?”
Ashton ignored me, coming back and folding his coat over his arm. He gestured for me to go ahead of him, and he locked my office behind us.
“You’re taking over everything.”
He barely blinked, his hands finding my hips and gently urging me ahead of him. “Where’s your coat? Your things?”
I was still frowning at him, looking beyond him to my office, so he stepped away and went behind the counter. I’d already closed out the register, but he dipped down and straightened, my coat and purse in his hand. “Your keys?”
I motioned to the purse. “In there.”
He held it out to me, coming back to me. “I need you to lock up behind us.”
“What?” I reached in my purse and pulled out the keys. I went to the back door, tested the doorknob. Everything was already locked up. I had either Pialto or Elijah to thank for that. The last door was the main door, not the one I usually exited out of, but today seemed like the whole theme was out of the normal routine. We stepped out, and I hit the locks as we did.
A black Escalade pulled up in front of us. Ashton opened the back door. “Come on.”
“You’re giving me a ride home? Because that’d be nice. I mean, I take the train.”
He waited until I got in, got in behind me, and shut the door. “No. We’re going for dinner.”
“I don’t want to have dinner with you.” Maybe talking to him about my dad would be a good idea. I’d like to know if I killed him, whether there’d be repercussions against me. “I mean, sure. I’d love dinner.”
“It’s time we talked about the day you were at my grandfather’s house.”
I blinked at him. Then blinked again. “Huh?”
His mouth tightened as he looked out the window. “Exactly.”
We pulled away, and I looked back, feeling something sinking in me.
Tonight would’ve been the night Kelly and Justin came to bowl with their friends.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MOLLY
He took me to Pedro’s, a very exclusive small restaurant that most people only heard about. As we pulled up, going down an alley and then stopping at what looked like their back door, I could attest to how special I already felt. A back entryway. Two members of their waitstaff came out, dressed in black pants and shirts and nice-quality cream aprons, to greet us. The chef stepped out as we got to the door, and he embraced Ashton, speaking in Spanish.
We were getting this special treatment because of Ashton, because of who he was. Ashton was Mafia. I caught the looks from the staff through the windows. These people knew it.
They were all watching.
I couldn’t catch what was being said, but it was beautiful to hear, a touching moment to witness, and then the chef came to me and took my hand in both of his. He was speaking again, blinking back tears.
I thought Ashton would translate, but he didn’t. His eyes were on me, and they’d gone back to their normal hardness. A chill started to go down my spine, but it stopped halfway because Pedro was still talking to me. He was shorter than Ashton but taller than me. Maybe five seven, and he kept himself trim. His hands were strong. When he was done, he reached up and tucked a strand of my hair back behind my ear, saying a last phrase before turning back to Ashton. He clasped him on the sides of his arms, gave him a bright, beaming closed-mouth smile, and gestured for us to follow him inside.