Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Now?
There looked to be no end to it.
Because after that kiss in the bedroom, Wasp was back to cold and distant, not even cracking a smile when I laid the charm on thick, or even when Alvy cracked a particularly biting—and hilarious—joke at my expense.
She was ice personified.
She didn't even start to melt in the sweltering sun as we made our way to our waiting car, as we drove to the house.
In fact, she paid me no attention whatsoever, her gaze stubbornly out the window at her side, watching the sights as we moved past.
It was alright.
I got to watch her watching the sights.
It was a consolation of sorts.
It made everything feel new, seeing it through her eyes instead of my own.
"You can't be serious," she mumbled as we pulled into the drive. "You have a house this big that you, what, visit a few times a year?"
"It's here when I need it, though."
"You could just stay at a hotel."
"I could," I agreed. And maybe, objectively, that was what I should do. Keeping a house you didn't live in—staff and all—was undoubtedly expensive. I didn't know the numbers. I'd have to ask Alvy. All I knew was it wasn't hurting my bottom line. And it kept the staff employed. It wasn't a complete loss if someone benefited from it.
"Do you at least time share it? So other people can actually appreciate its beauty?" she asked, tone accusatory as she climbed out of the car, refusing to take my hand to do so, despite nearly teetering on her heels on the uneven stone drive.
"I do not."
"Well, you should," she decided, taking a deep breath, inspiring me to do the same, the salt water teasing my nostrils, fresh, familiar.
"What do you think, Alvy? Should we time-share it?"
"It is beautiful,"Alvy said. "I can have it arranged."
"Not that you need the money or anything," Wasp went on, turning in a slow circle. "But at least all the energy bills wouldn't be a complete waste."
"Would you like a tour?" I asked as she did yet another turn.
Finally, her gaze settled on the house—the villa—head cocking to the side, taking it in.
It was a two-story home, the first floor of white stucco, the second of terra cotta colored, each level with a covered porch, both in the front and the back, allowing you views of the island to the front and the ocean to the back.
"Okay," she said, turning to face me, eyes unreadable for a moment as she made her way toward me, linking her arm through mine, surprising me enough for my feet to falter when she charged forward, dragging me with her.
I didn't understand her moods, the up and down, the hot and cold, but I had to admit I was more intrigued than ever.
I figured once she was settled in, she might let down the guards a bit, show me more of who was underneath that cold mask of hers.
I had a feeling it would be an amazing woman to behold.
Possibly—dare I even think it—one who wouldn't ever prove predictable, someone who would never get boring.
Someone I might enjoy having around for an extended period of time.
That was a shocking thought, as I hadn't been looking for that. Yet now that it was here, there was no denying I found myself interested in the possibility.
"Wow," Wasp sighed as we moved in the front door, straight into the open concept lower floor, seeing right through the house to the back where the floor-to-ceiling windows showed the back deck and pool area as well as a sliver of the ocean.
The surfaces were deep natural woods, made less oppressive by the abundance of light filtering in through the space.
"Alright, I'll admit it," she said, giving me a wry smile. "I am officially envious of your wealth. I would cut off something vital to be able to wake up to this view every morning."
"Luckily, darling, nothing on your lovely body needs to be severed to be able to enjoy this view. Let me show you to your room," I offered, leading her up to the stairs behind the bottom floor washroom. "This is Alvy's room, if they choose to stay with us," I told her, motioning to the first door. "This is me," I added, walking past the next. "And finally, you," I said, pushing open the door.
The master always had the best view, but hers was nothing to sneeze at, and it was what you immediately noticed when you stepped inside thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows, white drapes pulled open.
The queen-sized four-poster bed dominated the space, draped all in white. With a massive round box of blood-red roses beside a box of chocolates. And the pink champagne was chilling on the nightstand next to a flute with a stem so thin a strong breeze could snap it.