Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Roman liked to highlight all her good points.
He was as determined to find this asshole as I was, and he was frustrated by our lack of success. He offered a private car to take her to and from work, but she refused it. He offered her a twenty-four-hour bodyguard, and she laughed at him. She was incensed at his suggestions she’d be safer working the private dining area and informed him she didn’t want to hang with the rich snobs, and that she belonged here with regular folks like her.
“Aldo is a rich snob,” he said dryly. “You hang with him.”
“No,” she pointed out. “You’re a rich snob. Aldo is just rich. I can handle that. But I’m with him for his dick, not his money.”
Roman almost choked on his coffee, he laughed so hard.
So she stayed at Rolling Dice, and I watched her more than she realized. When she was out of my sight, I was anxious. I hated it when she went back to her apartment and I couldn’t see her. Roman suggested I wire her place, but I knew she’d go ballistic. She agreed to a tracker in her purse, phone, and car. Anything else, she was against. In fact, after two weeks, she decided he was long gone.
“I think he’s moved on, Aldo,” she said at breakfast.
“I disagree.”
She pushed back her hair with an annoyed huff. She’d been off the past couple of days, more tense than usual, quieter. “You said yourself that he has a track record of never staying in one place. He was pissed off over getting banned, and he scared me to get even. There’ve been zero sightings of him, no more garage incidents. Admit it, we need to go back to normal.”
“Which means what?” I asked tersely.
“I go back to living my life. I live at my apartment and stay here on occasion. Not the other way around. I mean, it’s a nice hotel room and all, but it’s a hotel room, not a home.”
“And your apartment is the Taj Mahal?” I snapped.
She frowned. “It’s mine.”
“I’ll get you a bigger suite.”
“I don’t want a bigger suite, Aldo. I want to stop worrying about some asshole who has probably moved on and forgotten about me. Let’s forget about him.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Soon.”
She looked at me for a moment. “Why?” she asked quietly.
“Why what?”
“Why are you so focused on this? You’ve done more than you have to.”
“Because he got to you once. He could again.”
“Or you could be overreacting. Compensating for something.”
“Like what?” I demanded, not liking the direction this conversation had taken.
“Like trying to look after me to make up for the fact that you don’t feel anything for me other than sexual.”
I narrowed my eyes. “When have I said that?”
“With words, never. Not even gestures, really. You are generous and kind. Giving. You spoil me.”
“I’d spoil you more if you would allow it.”
“I’m not with you for your money or your gifts. But the truth is, you hold yourself back. Even more than I realized.”
“What is it you want from me, Vi? I give you everything I’m capable of giving. Why are you suddenly dissatisfied?”
“I’m not dissatisfied,” she replied. “I’m confused. Your actions and your words don’t line up.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You took me to meet Nonna V, someone you care about a great deal. You told Roman about us—we became friends. Or at least as friendly as one can get with Roman. The staff know. You have people watching over me. You’re sweet and affectionate. Caring. Yet you don’t let me in. You still hold me at arm’s length. We’re basically living together, yet we’re not really a couple.”
“You want me to spill all my secrets? Tell you my sordid past and all the hurts? Is that it? That’s what you want?”
“I want to know all of you, Aldo. The good and bad. You won’t scare me away.”
I snorted in disbelief.
She sighed. “Relationships have to progress, or they die, Aldo. I know how I feel. I’m not sure you do—or if you’re capable of expressing it.”
Anger took over, fear driving it. Part of me worried about how she would feel if she knew everything. The violence of my past. That my future would always contain more of the same. That being with me, really being with me, meant she would be in danger. How thoughts of anything happening to her because of me niggled at me with worry. How the feelings I had for her frightened me. They were unlike anything I had ever experienced. She had become more than I ever expected.
And being an idiot, instead of expressing my fears, I let anger get the best of me.
“Relationship? When did this progress to a relationship? We’re fuckmates, Vi. We agreed to that. Just because I look after you doesn’t mean I’m looking to marry you—or even ‘progress,’ as you stated, into something resembling a relationship.”