Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
But as the doors open on the ground floor, security for the building is there.
“Mrs. Valiente, please return to your penthouse. Farren has informed me that you’re to be sent back up.”
My eyes nearly wander, but that would be too much of a telltale sign that I’m trying to escape. Used to having to be quick on my feet, the lie comes easily.
“My husband, Mr. Valiente,” I emphasize his name and watch the security guard swallow thickly, “asked me to meet him for coffee at the café next door. Alone. Now, I would hate for him find out that not only did my guards feel the need to stop and question me, but so did the building staff. You know Nico, right?”
We both know damn well he knows who my husband is. And if this were all true, the man would be right in stepping aside, if he values his head, knees, or fingers.
I place my hands on my hips and look just to the left of us, where a Victorian style clock sits, the time showing 7:00 p.m.
Releasing a sigh of annoyance, he finally steps aside.“My apologies, ma’am.”
I nod, leaving him then. I take long yet steady strides, holding in a deep breath until I can get away. The moment the revolving doors close in behind me, I release the breath, and then I rush to the corner out of sight of the guard, move to the edge of the sidewalk, and hold out my hand for a cab. One pulls up, and I climb in, but before I shut the door, I hear my name being called.
I yell at the cab driver, “Go! I will tip you a grand if you get us far away from this building as fast as possible.” And that he does.
“No problem, ma’am. Where would you like to go?” He darts into traffic, and I look behind me, seeing Farren and the security guard yelling at one another. But I see Farren pull out his phone and snap a photo quick.
Fuck. The license plate.
“Take me two blocks and then a left. That’s it.”
He looks at me through the rearview mirror like I'm mad, but I don’t care.“Miss?”
“Do what I say. Here’s my card. Hurry and run it for the grand and whatever the two blocks is.” I hand it to him and keep looking back. No car yet, but I'm sure Farren will find me in minutes if we don’t hurry.
We turn left, my twitching leg as I watch him run the card and wait for it to load. Paranoid, I keep looking out the back window. Still in the clear.
“All right. All clear.”
I say nothing, just grab the card and go. Bolting from the cab, I run a block. My chest hurts from the chilly evening air and the anxiety building in my chest. I'm the daughter of a mafia boss; I know what I need to do to get away, but I have no idea where I am. All I know is I need to find a new driver.
Getting a block away from my last cab, I hail another one. This time, it’s a sweet older woman, and she greets me instantly, taking notice of my distress.“Sweetie, are you all right?”
I nod, trying to catch my breath. I lean my head down and attempt to regain some composure.“Yes, um… my husband is looking for me, and I just need to get away.”
She slowly pulls into traffic and hesitantly asks, “Do I need to take you to the police station?”
I shake my head vigorously.“No, no, it's not that. I just need a break; that's all. I am not in danger,” I say between heaps of heavy breathing.
“Really? Why would you be running and looking over your shoulder if you just needed a break? I would say danger is exactly what you’re in, sweetie.”
I finally meet her eyes in the rearview mirror and shake my head.“Valiente. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Instantly, she stiffens and slams on the brakes. Her shoulders lift, and her head practically tucks. Her brunette hair is up in a high bun, so I can see her face clearly.
“Ma’am, if I may say, I don’t feel comfortable having you in my cab.” It's not rude the way she says it. No, it's fearful.
“I just need you to drop me off at some sort of clothing store. I won’t let anything happen to you. I will tip you well.”
She waits, and I look at her name tag hanging from her mirror.
“Lenny?”
She looks at me, her eyes hollow and petrified. I don’t blame her. There is a risk in helping me, especially as it's helping me escape his men.
“I can drop you off a block away from a boutique close by, but I won't take any money. I can't be tied to this. I’m a single mom and….” She pauses, and my heart sinks. I don’t want her to fear what could happen, and it's then that I realize being involved with me comes with a risk, and I am to blame for making this kind woman afraid.