Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 68858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I bought the diner and made sure they could live comfortably long before an aggressive form of lung cancer took the cutthroat bastard out. Paula still got up every day and came in to run it alongside his brother Franco, who doubled as a chef.
“I want my usual, and she wants…”
“The poached egg.”
“Got it. How do you like your toast? Wheat or white?”
“Wheat is fine.”
“And to drink?” Paula inquired with a gentle smile.
“Orange juice, please.”
“I’ll have that right out.” She collected the menus and shuffled off towards the kitchen.
Elena looked around the diner, taking it all in before she focused her beautiful eyes on me. “You eat here often?”
I’d wondered how long it would take her to pick up on that.
“Often enough. It’s one of the rare establishments I place true value on.”
She appeared pensive for a moment, thanking Paula when she brought our drinks over—Elena’s orange juice and my coffee, black with no sugar. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"
“We can get to that after you’ve eaten.”
She opened her mouth but then decided against whatever she was going to say. We fell into a semi-companionable silence after that, which continued until the food came, up until I had to exercise patience as she stared at her plate but made no effort to eat.
“If you don’t start eating, I’ll have no choice but to feed you myself. You don’t want to offend the cook.”
"I'm actually not very hungry."
“Did I ask if you were?”
Reaching across the table, I picked up her fork and added a piece of her poached egg before bringing it to her mouth.
“Eat,” I directed, gesturing toward the plate in front of her.
She looked at me with a mixture of shock and resignation, but she didn't put up a fight. She took the bite I offered without any further arguments. Whether or not she was actually hungry was irrelevant to me. It was obvious that she had not been taking care of herself. As much as I hated to admit it, she would be no use to me if she was sickly. Besides the noticeable weight loss, it was clear that she had been crying. Her face was swollen and puffy, but still undeniably beautiful.
It killed me to know that I wasn't the reason for her tears, that I hadn't been there to taste them as they fell from her eyes. After feeding her another bite, she took the fork from me and started eating on her own. I watched her, noting her every move and facial expression. Elena was alluring in a way I found more desirable than anyone I’d ever encountered.
I was surrounded by beautiful women, the likes of which stayed dolled up even as they slept. Elena would surpass them at her worst. She was an enigma--a blend of fierce beauty and haunting vulnerability. Her long, dark hair framed a face that was both delicate and strong, with eyes that seemed to hold the weight of the world in their depths. They captivated him, those eyes—dark and expressive, often reflecting a storm of emotions she tried so hard to keep in check. Her skin, a warm, sun-kissed tone, hinted at her heritage and added to her allure.
Her lips were full and enticing, often set in a determined line but capable of breaking into a smile that could disarm even the most guarded of men. The way she held herself, with an air of defiance and a touch of grace, spoke of someone who had seen too much but refused to be broken by it. I saw not just the woman she presented to the world but the one she hid from everyone, including herself.
Without a doubt, I knew that Elena was both a prize to be claimed and a challenge to be met. She was the kind of woman who could stand beside me even after I broke her down, and still maintain identity. That, more than anything, was what fascinated me the most.
As we sat there, I made the decision to burn her sweatpants. They were too effective in highlighting the roundness of her ass, and it wasn't fair for her to expect me to always be there to defend her against anyone who took a look. Once she’d eaten a few more bites, she took a sip of her drink and then sat back in the same way I had, gesturing to my untouched plate. “You haven’t eaten anything.”
“No, but you have and that’s all that matters.”
She reached out and began fiddling with a napkin, a sign she was growing uncomfortable. I debated if I should get right into things or be a considerate gentleman for five minutes. I went with the latter.
For Elena, I would try my hand at being a saint for a day if the situation called for it. “Would you like to get anything off your chest? I'm an excellent listener and can