Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Where?” I urge, waiting for her to rattle something loose in her brain.
“She’s obsessed with Hungary. One time when she was ten she went on a big Eastern Euro kick, wouldn’t shut up about Budapest, wine country, old castles, whatevs. It’s all she talked about for months.”
Finally.
“That’s something. Thanks, Maisy.”
I turn and start toward the car.
“Yo, Brock?”
I look back at her over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Keep it up. If there’s anyone you might wear down with kindness, it’s my sister.”
Thanks, kid. I’m going to need it.
“She still won’t talk?” Fyo asks the second I’m in the vehicle.
“No.” That would be too easy. “I’m running out of ideas. I’ve tried flowers and designer luggage. I’ve got a vacation package up next. If that doesn’t work, I’m at my wits’ end.”
“Have you tried an apology? A big one.”
I snort loudly.
Fyo shakes his head and pulls onto the road.
“Boss, I’m beginning to understand why you’re still single. You never tell a woman she’s wrong, especially when she’s this pissed at you.”
Could it really be that simple?
I hate that I already know the answer.
25
Penguin Suit (Piper)
Stupid man.
Stupid job.
Stupid life.
I’m staring at my bank account and crunching numbers, wondering if I have enough to jet off to somewhere warm and free from hot billionaires. If Dad keeps improving, then maybe in a few months.
How nice would it be to leave the heartbreak at home for winter?
Knock. Knock.
I look up from my phone and yell, “Come in!”
Maisy strolls into my room with a puckered smile she tries to hide and totally can’t.
“What now?” I huff out, folding my arms.
“Your hotel prince came bearing large gifts. Gotta give him props for trying!”
Oh, boy.
Here we go again.
Brock may be an enormous douchenozzle, but he’s a persistent one.
Seriously.
An old jewelry box in the corner catches my eye. I frown.
Maybe there’s a reason why I’m extra resistant to his material charms. While Maisy waits for me to launch into a tirade, I walk across the room and pick it up before I pass it to her.
“Remember this thing? Why don’t you take it, Mais?”
“Huh? Pippy, you haven’t touched that thing in years.”
“That’s the point. You can get more use out of it than me,” I say glumly.
That’s not the truth.
I never wanted this jewelry box. I wanted my mom.
The fact that it’s still around is just a hollow reminder of my loss. That’s the only thing this 'gift' can ever be, and it’s the same for Captain Heartslaughter.
Maisy thumbs it open, staring at the silver ballerina inside the box.
“Eh, I don’t know. I don’t have much jewelry.”
“Then trash it. I don’t care what you do, honestly.” I turn away, hating that I have to ask. “Well, what did he send this time?”
“Oh, you’ll like this!” she gushes. “New suitcases, and they’re straight dripping.”
I assume that means good.
Naturally.
This man doesn’t know the meaning of bargain shopping, and he’s oblivious to the fact that I don’t want ginormous expensive suitcases.
“Want me to bring them in?” Maisy asks, biting her lip.
“Leave them at the door. I’ll deal with it later.”
“Aw, no fun. Maybe you should just give him a chance—”
“I gave him a chance, Mais. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
She sticks her tongue out. “I’m old enough, and you’re being ridiculous. He’s your typical dumb dude but he’s not so bad—”
“Neither is a mosquito bite, but you don’t go tromping through swamps for fun,” I counter.
Her eyes soften.
“You know, I don’t agree with everything, but...I’m proud of you, Pippy.”
I stare at her.
Proud of what? I just had an ill-advised fling with my boss that exploded my heart. Real gold medal material.
“Are you going to tell me why?”
She giggles and shrugs. “He’s hot and loud and determined. But you’re holding your own, sis. If some moody billionaire guy who’s just missing the Twilight sparkle came to my house day after day with gifts, I’m not sure I’d have your strength. I couldn’t just ghost him.”
“If he ripped your heart out, you’d be surprised.”
Her face falls. “Right. Sorry. I’ll lay off it for a while.”
I watch glumly as she slips away, leaving me with my misery.
“Prince Apology again.” A day later, she’s back, standing in my door.
“Tell him I died in my sleep,” I say, looking up from scouting freelance writing gigs online.
“You know he won’t believe that, and on the off chance he did, he’d go on the warpath trying to find someone to blame.”
“Don’t care. Still not talking to him.”
“But at least check out what he brought today!” She’s practically squealing, her eyes huge with excitement. “Pippa, trust me. You have to look.”
Sigh.
I almost limp over to her, afraid to see what she’s hiding behind her back.
But I’m surprised when there’s nothing and she just holds out a piece of paper.
I take it and turn it around.
An envelope. Inside, there’s a round trip ticket to Budapest, redeemable anytime in the next year. There’s an egift card to a premier Hungarian hotel affiliated with Winthrope brands—and a damned note.