Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Fuck, I don’t like it. I never liked it. But it was always easy money and after my sports career imploded, what the hell. I know taking that hit to the head changed me as well. I was always the darkest of my siblings but after my injury, something switched, and I gave zero fucks about anything but my family.
Until her.
Until Anna.
I’ve followed her. The day after her softball game, I showed up at the Welsh Center knowing she was there, demanding to get five minutes of her time. I even had a ring in my back pocket, ready to get down on one knee. I spent the entire night after we met in my jewelry vault picking out the most precious, rare and perfect ring for her. I didn’t care that most people would think I’m insane.
But, fuck, she wouldn’t see me. She had her assistant tell me she was very sorry but her schedule was busy for the rest of the day. I thought about kicking the door down if it wasn’t for the kids sitting around watching me. They didn’t need to be traumatized by that shit.
Instead, I went to her father. Her fucking father. I was going to do this right. Ask for her hand, not that it mattered, but I felt like it would matter to her.
But, that fucker.
Told me I was wasting my time, that his daughter would never look twice at a guy like me. I should have told him I knew what she sounded like when she came, what she tasted like, just to rub it in his face, until he told me she’s fucking engaged.
That little tidbit was what sent me over the edge. I punched his door so hard one of the hinges popped, and he banned me from his poker games. Like I give a flying fuck about poker. All I care about is her. All I need is her.
All I want is her.
It’s a miracle I made it back home before I started ripping into everything I saw. Punching holes in walls. Tearing cupboard doors and tossing furniture. Throwing the television set through the living room window.
Engaged? Fucking engaged?
No. That’s not happening. All I thought about was how to get to her, willing or not, and take her away. I’ve been crazed since and that was a week ago, but I haven’t had time to do much cleaning up.
The TV is gone, the window is boarded, but otherwise my house still looks like the aftermath of a stampede. Because once I’d got it out of my system, my obsessive thoughts took over and refused to accept any of that shit.
Engaged? Just an obstacle. No biggie.
I made some calls. Some of those politicians and lawmen who’d tiptoed over the line into my world. They owed me, and they came through.
Which is how I ended up here. Sitting in the dark in her living room.
Waiting.
I see her headlights first. The soft closing of her car door. The slight crunch of her steps on the stone path to her front door. The metallic sound of her key in the lock, then…
Her.
Anna.
Fuck, I can smell her scent already as she steps into the dark. Even in silhouette I’m salivating at the sight of her curves, the way her round ass is teasing me. She’s wearing these little athletic shorts with a red stripe on the side with the front seem splitting her into the cutest little cameltoe.
“What the—” She nearly jumps out of her skin when she throws the light on and sees me sitting here. “Cyrus? Peter, Paul and Mary, what the hell are you…?”
“Hi, baby,” I say, standing and taking a step her way. She counters with a backstep, which makes me irrationally angry. “I would never hurt you.”
“How did you get in here?” Her eyes dart from me, then around the room.
She reaches back, feeling for the door handle, but I don’t believe this frightened little girl act. She knows me. She knows I wouldn’t let any harm come to a single hair on her fucking head. She knows I’d put myself between her and a bullet without a second thought.
“I know people who know how to get things done. Things I need done,” I tell her.
“You know people? What people do you know? I used my key so the door was locked, the alarm didn’t go off.” She continues to take in the room as if looking for a forced window or maybe a hole in the fucking wall like I was the fucking Kool-Aid man barreling in here. “How?”
I sigh. “Two days after I came to your office, this place had some plumbing work done.”
“No, it didn’t. There was no plumbing problem.”
“Yes, baby. The house manager let them in when you and your parents were out. Thirty minutes to install an override for the alarm system and cut a duplicate key for your door.”