Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
He stared me down with lidded eyes. “We aren’t seeing each other anymore. I can do whatever the hell I want.” He reached for the bottle.
I stepped back and kept it out of his reach. “You’re better than this. I know you are.”
“I take a shot to shake the edge off. Doesn’t make me an alcoholic.”
“But it makes you dependent on it.” I unscrewed the cap then held it over the sink, threatening to pour it down the drain. I knew it was aged and expensive, so tossing it would really piss him off. But he didn’t need to turn to alcohol every time there was a bump in the road.
He glared viciously at me, his anger palpable. “Don’t you dare.”
“You can keep it for social occasions.”
“We both know I don’t have any friends.”
“Then maybe you should make some.” I put the cap back on then returned it to the cabinet. “I’m gonna trust you not to drink this when I’m not in the room. Can I trust you to do that?” I placed my hands on my hips and watched him, knowing whatever answer he gave would be the truth. He’d lied to me before, but for some reason, I still trusted him.
He eyed the cabinet before he looked at me again. His jaw was clenched with irritation, and he didn’t keep the annoyance out of his expression. “Yes.” He grabbed the glass sitting on the counter and returned it to the cabinet. He shut the door then leaned against the counter, his arms across his chest.
Now I didn’t have to keep an eye on him. “Thank you.”
He nodded.
“I’m going to shower…” I turned away from the kitchen, wanting to remove myself from the searing heat between us.
“I’m not done talking to you.”
I turned around, annoyed. “You think you can boss me around now?” I put up with it for a few days, but I was growing tired of it.
“Yes. I’ll boss you around as much as I like.” His blue eyes were no longer charismatic, but a little frightening. “We need to get to work on Hank. Perhaps you want to do that before you shower. Up to you.”
“Get to work on him, how?”
“I need you to tell me everything about him. I want to know where he lives, what he looks like, if his parents are divorced—everything. The more information I have, the easier this will be.”
I didn’t want to talk about Hank—not now or ever. But there was no way around it. I knew Calloway needed that information, not to kill him, but to destroy him. “Okay.”
We had dinner together at the table, dead silent and tense.
Calloway sat across from me, his forearms exposed in his t-shirt. Strong and powerful, he looked like a Roman soldier who could tear down an army all on his own.
“Can I ask you something?” I whispered.
He stopped eating and looked me square in the eye. “You know the answer.”
I hoped that was a yes. “How’s your mom?”
His eyes flinched like he didn’t expect the question. “She’s good. I saw her on Saturday.”
“She’s a sweet woman.”
“Yeah…” He spun his fork around his pasta but didn’t take a bite. “She remembered you.”
I heard the words but struggled to absorb them. “What?”
“She remembered you,” he repeated. “She asked where you were.” He chuckled, but the laugh was full of pain. “Never remembers me, but somehow, she remembers you…”
“She did? What did she say?”
He set his fork down and pushed his untouched plate away. “That you were lovely.”
To my own surprise, my eyes watered. I knew Calloway struggled with his mother’s illness. Every time he visited her, it caused him so much pain. She was his mother, but he could never be her son because she didn’t remember him.
“She told me to knock off my promiscuous ways and settle down. It’s ironic because I can’t remember the last time my mother gave me a lecture. It was nice, in a strange way.” He leaned back against the chair, one hand resting on the table.
“I don’t know what to say…”
“There’s nothing to say, Rome. It just seems like you have the same effect on my mother as you do on me…on everyone.”
It was a sweet thing to say, and it made my insides tighten with butterflies.
“Sometimes I wonder if she’s right…”
“Right about what?”
“Right about you. That I should give up my lifestyle for you.” He looked me in the eye as he spoke. “I’ve been miserable without you. The idea of being with anyone else literally makes me sick. I have the freedom to put someone in chains, but I don’t want to…because I only want you. I haven’t slept in four weeks because it’s not the same without you beside me. Every day, I wonder what you’re doing while I’m home alone. I think about you constantly, wondering if you’re thinking about me.”