Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 119230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
The houses up and down the road are huge, taking up as much of the property as possible and making it look as though they practically live on top of their neighbors. All the yards are perfectly landscaped, and I’d bet that every single property has a pool and an extravagant entertaining area out back.
This is rich man’s territory here, though it could be worse. Another five minutes down the road and we get into billionaire territory where the properties are simply insane. These McMansions lining the private road are the modest version of those; the homes that the billionaires turn their noses up to. Shit, I can only imagine what they’d think of the small, falling apart, three bedder that I just vacated.
Grabbing the box of my most important possessions from the passenger seat of my Civic, I walk toward Mom and meet her by the side of her car so that we can walk up to the front door together. The truck is just pulling up to the curb and we barely get another step before the door opens wide and the famous Orlando Channing, number one criminal lawyer in the state, appears before us.
He doesn’t look the tiniest bit pleased to see us as he stands fully decked out in a suit that cost more than my car. His graying hair is swept back, and there’s no doubt that he’s a bit of a silver fox, just my mother’s type.
Orlando’s gaze rakes over me before settling on my mother, who beams back at him, turning to mush at the sight of the man who’s made her all kinds of promises that I know he won’t be willing to keep. I just can’t figure out his angle here. He’s a smart man, a lawyer at the top of his game. Why would he be so reckless in inviting his new girlfriend and her daughter to live with him? Does he like it when women are dependent on him? Does alienating them from their independence get him hot? All I know is that I don’t like him, and I sure as hell don’t trust him.
“Ahh, Cara, truly a radiant sight as always,” he says, working her just right, though the words don’t quite match the lack of interest in his eyes. “I was starting to wonder if you’d changed your mind.”
“Not at all,” Mom says, leading us up the path to the front door, her cheeks glowing with a soft blush at his compliment. “Packing all of our things took a little longer than anticipated, but we’re here now.”
We step up to the door and Orlando’s gaze falls on me once again. “You remember my daughter, Brielle?” Mom continues. “She was thrilled to learn that we were going to be spending our time together.”
Orlando narrows his gaze on me, knowing damn well that’s not how the conversation went down. After all, he has a teenage son of his own, one who I’m sure has his own issues with authoritative figures making demands of him.
I give the guy a forced smile and he gives me an even faker one in return. “It’s a pleasure to have you stay with us,” he says. “I’m sure you and Jensen will get along just fine. I know he is looking forward to your arrival.”
I’m sure he is.
Orlando points to the box in my hands. “Here, let me take that for you and I’ll show you up to your room.”
I pull away from his grabby fingers. “No, it’s fine. I can—”
He takes the box right out of my hands, no questions asked, and turns his back before stalking into the house. Having no choice, I follow Mom and Orlando inside as the movers remain behind, opening the back of the truck and starting to pull out boxes of junk that Mom, Damien, and I have spent a lifetime collecting.
“This way,” Orlando says with Mom hurrying to keep up with his long strides, doing everything she can to appear like the perfect guest. I wonder if Orlando is the type of man who thinks women should be seen and not heard.
The house is immaculate and boring as fuck. White walls, white floors, white decor. I mean, there’s a slight gray to some of it, but for the most part, it’s all white. It’s the kind of place I’d be too scared to sneeze in on the off chance I accidentally shit myself in the process. When I say this isn’t the kind of place you want to be in when you get brought down by a gastro bug, I truly mean it. There will be no racing in and traipsing mud through the house, no grabbing pizza and taking it up to my room, no drinks other than water allowed anywhere within this house.
It’s boring. Fucking boring.