Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
His hard eyes burn into mine. “But that’s just it. We’re not friends, Ava. You work for me. End of story.”
Well, if that isn’t a slap in the face. My face stings with the pain from his words.
“Okay.” I wrap my arms around my chest. “I understand.”
“You understand what?”
“That you’re a heartless fucking bastard!” I spin on my heel and start to walk away.
He laughs harshly. “I never once claimed to have a heart. And do you talk to all your bosses that way, Speedy? Maybe that’s why you got fired from your last job.”
That has me stopping and turning back to him. Undiluted rage is burning in my veins. “My last boss would never have treated me the way you just did.”
Some unnamed emotion flickers across his face. “I don’t have to put up with this shit,” he bites.
I laugh. There’s no humor in it. “That makes two of us. And you don’t have to worry about putting up with me anymore. Because I quit.” I stare him hard in the eyes. “Clearly, you don’t need me to take care of you anymore. You look like you’re doing just fine. So, I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.” I don’t give him a chance to say anything in response. I storm out of the kitchen and to my room, and I slam the door shut. I fall back against it, breathing hard.
Fucking asshole!
Tears fill my eyes. But I won’t cry. I won’t fucking cry.
I press the palms of my hands to my eyes, stopping the tears from coming, and I take cleansing deep breaths.
I feel Gucci nudge her head against my leg. I move my hands from my eyes, and she’s staring at me.
“I made us homeless again,” I tell her. “I’m sorry, baby girl. But I’ll figure something out. I always do.”
“Baaahhh.”
I like to think she’s telling me it’s okay, but then she nudges my leg again and trots to the door, giving it a butt with her head, and I know she needs to go outside.
“Ah, right now, Gucci?” The last thing I want to do at this moment in time is go out there.
“Baaahhh.”
“Crap,” I mutter. “Okay.”
I grab a hoodie, the elevator key, and my cell. I slide my feet into my flip-flops. Then, I pick Gucci up and leave my room.
I’m going to have to walk through the living room.
I take a deep breath. Holding my head up high, I quickly start walking through the living room.
The music is playing. A couple of women are dancing together.
I don’t want to seek Gabe out, but my eyes do.
And they immediately lock with his.
He’s sitting on the sofa with that blonde plastered up against his side. She’s leaning in close, speaking in his ear.
Jealousy explodes in my chest, spreading the agony out to fill my whole body. Breathing through the hurt, I force my feet to move faster, so I’m almost breaking into a jog.
When I reach the elevator, I jab the button a few times. “Come on, come on,” I mutter, tapping my foot, desperate for it to hurry up and arrive.
It pings its arrival, and I step inside the safety of the elevator.
“Ava.”
My eyes find Gabe hobbling toward the elevator.
I jab the button for the ground floor. I don’t want to talk to him, no matter how childish that might be. I just want to get away from him right now.
“Where are you going?” he says, his voice demanding.
But the doors close on his words, and the lift starts to descend.
I exhale and hug Gucci tight to my chest, burying my face into her soft fur.
When I reach the ground floor, the lobby is empty. The security guard must have just stepped away from his desk.
I walk out of the lobby, heading for the back of the building, and out into the communal garden.
Once outside, I put Gucci down on the grass, and I go take a seat on one of the benches.
I get my phone out and bring up Candy Crush to play while I wait for her to do her business. I’m not exactly in any rush to go back upstairs.
But something makes me change my mind, and I shut Candy Crush down and open up Google.
Then, I type in Gabe’s name in the Search bar and hit Enter.
The screen fills with links and stories. I go to Recent News.
At the top is Radar Online. Always the first with a story.
I click on the link, and the headline says something about Gabe appearing to have a broken leg.
Broken foot, dipshits.
They need to do better with their so-called journalism. And then it goes on to say how he’s been hitting up the bars all day.
So much for his meetings.
There are pictures of him from earlier. In one picture, he’s in a booth with a bunch of people I don’t recognize, and next to him is a pretty brunette, his arm around her.