Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
There’s a photo of him paperclipped to the inside of the folder. I’ve known a lot of kids like him; lean, chiseled face and dark eyes that emanate hunger. Wrath. Ambition. “And he’s being open about all this? No secrecy?”
“Nope. He wants the word to spread so people know he's not fucking around. At least in the underground operations.”
I nod, already liking him. Straightforward. Honest. He’s not afraid to show people what happens if they cross him.
Romero sneers, “In other words, he's coming here today pretending he wants to help, only essentially he wants to renegotiate.”
“Maybe. But if he can help put a stop to this bullshit, I might consider it. The percentage loss would be worth it, being that we’re bleeding out money every day that the shipment is not found.” We exchange glances. “However, that’s only if it works in our favor.”
My phone rings, and my heart clenches in my chest. It won't be her, it never is, but I always remain hopeful. Bianca’s reintroduced me to the concept of hope. I wish I could tell her, but I can never find the words I want to say when she's actually in front of me. Forever, that more profound, darker desire wins out. Then I make mistakes. Where she’s concerned, I’m a raging lunatic. Obsessed and unhinged.
Speaking of mistakes... “This is the fourth or fifth time I've noticed her calling,” Romero observes when he sees Amanda's name flash across the screen.
“Typical. The less attention I give her, the more she wants.”
“You never know.” He stands, shaking invisible wrinkles from his slacks before crossing the room. “She could be calling to tell you she signed the papers.” The way he chuckles as he enters his office tells me he knows how unlikely that is.
No way in hell did she waste this much time only to turn around and sign the papers. Whatever game she’s playing is long, and it doesn’t end with her signing a damn thing. She would rather continue dangling this over my head, fucking with my life.
“Did you sign the papers?” I demand upon answering.
“Wow, hello to you, too.” She has the nerve to sound wounded after all she's done.
“Can we skip the pleasantries? I think we’re past that bullshit now, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, forgive me. Sometimes I forget how busy and important you are.”
“Don’t act like you care if I’m busy or not. You’ve called me more in the last couple of days than in the last two years. What do you want?”
“Maybe I wanted to accept accountability in the way things unraveled the last time we met at Bob's office,” she murmurs. “I let my feelings get the best of me, and that was wrong.” I roll my eyes. Somebody on her team must've told her how stupid she made herself look. Told her that she had taken things too far and that she was not doing herself any favors by behaving as she did. Now, I get the apologetic act she’s putting on.
“I'm not the one you owe an apology to.” My short nails dig into my palm when I recall how she talked about Bianca. A woman so far above her in so many ways, I don't have time to get into it.
“Yes, well...” She laughs softly. “I hope you don't expect me to feel warm and generous toward the child who is fucking my husband. I don't care whether or not she knew about the status of our divorce. I think it’s a good thing she ran off. She should really try to find a boy a little closer to her own age.”
Calm. Restraint. I have to be smarter than I was at the lawyer’s office. For all I know, she could be recording our conversation. I wouldn’t put it past her, honestly. “That’s no longer any of your business, Amanda. My relationships, who I fuck or don’t fuck, are none of your business. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to do than—”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the old saying you’ll attract more bees with honey than with vinegar.”
I swear to God, the way this woman thinks… I could get a migraine trying to decipher her word games.
“Why do I want to attract bees?”
“You know what I'm saying,” she huffs, “I want to be friends.”
This duplicitous, stalling bitch. It’s enough to make me bark out in laughter. “So that's your newest tactic? You want us to be friends. Let me guess, you think if we are friends, I'll be more likely to give you everything you think you deserve. Is that it?”
“Of course, you would say something like that. Always looking further than necessary into things. To you, everything is about keeping what you think you deserve.”
Think I deserve? The audacity.
“It is what I deserve, being that I worked for it.”