Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“No, Jers, he is. But starting a rumor that he’s not, coupled with the fact that he is having some voice issues, will cause him some grief. Anger some fans. Stir up shit in the media. It won’t burn him to the ground, but he’ll feel the heat.”
The previous night she video-chatted with Ian because she wanted to see him. He did a lot of nodding, smiling, and soft talking because he was supposed to rest his voice. He drank some sort of throat tea and sucked on lozenges. Jersey found the subdued, almost shy version of Ian quite cute.
Cute. Yeah, she found him cute like a young girl crushing on a guy. She spent her young girl years trying to avoid being sexually abused followed by years on the street, so she missed those swooning years.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asked.
She shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Nothing is what you’re saying, but I get this vibe that you’re thinking something. Please tell me you’re not feeling sorry for him. We don’t have the luxury of sympathy when it comes to a rich guy who got away with murder.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because when I told you I knew who killed the Russells, you were ready to tear his balls off. No name. No description. All that mattered to you were the facts. He killed them. He got away with it. Then the good Lord hands him to you on a silver platter—utensils, a cloth napkin, and a bottle of wine. Now, instead of tearing his balls off, you just want to roll them around in your hands and lick them. What has happened to you?”
Jersey tried to clench her hands, readying herself for a fight. But she couldn’t hold a fist or her laughter. She rested her elbows on the counter and covered her face with her hands, laughing to the point of tears. “You are so messed up.” Her body shook. “Who says that shit? Roll them around in my hands and lick them?”
“Thanks for taking this seriously.” His focus returned to the computer. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep this plan moving forward while you scribble his name in your notebook and twirl your hair around your finger while talking to him late at night. ‘You hang up,’” he said in a mocking, female voice, “‘No, you hang up first. I love you. No. I love you more. Te he he.’ Kill me now, Jers. Just kill me now.”
“I’ve never said any of that. And I don’t love him.” She regained her composure as his incessant mocking diffused any residual spark of humor.
“Good to know.” His fingers moved across the keyboard. “I’d imagine it’s pretty hard to kill someone you love. But … if he loves you, then it’s just that much sweeter. So really, if you’re willing to suck his cock to play the revenge game, sleep in his bed, laugh at his jokes, then don’t stop there. Go all the way. Tell him you love him. Don’t stop short of an Oscar-winning performance.”
“I’m not telling him that.”
“No. Don’t throw that shit out there unprovoked. Wait until he says it. Men need constant ego stroking. It’s true. If he gets the nerve to say the words to you and you don’t return the sentiment, his balls—that you enjoy licking and fondling—will most likely shrivel up, like overcooked marshmallows, and fall right off his body.”
“No.” She headed toward the stairs. “I’m not telling him that.”
The legs of the chair screeched across the floor as Chris stood to follow her. “Why? If it’s not real, if it’s all an act, then you should be able to say absolutely anything. But if you actually think you could love him back, then I can see why you don’t want to say it until you’re ready. But if that’s the case, Jers, then you need to tell me because that’s one big fucking problem.”
“I don’t love him now, and I won’t love him ever.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She whipped around just outside of the entrance to the bedroom. “Then you’re an idiot.”
“Me?” Chris chuckled. “Bullshit. You’re in over your head. I can see it in your eyes.” He rested his hand on the newel post, sporting a smirk.
“Then you’re blind. You can’t see shit in my eyes.”
“Then tell him. If he declares his love to you, tell him you love him too. Poison him with your words then slay him with your hands.”
“Fine.” She clenched her jaw.
“Fine?”
Jersey returned a sharp nod.
“You’re in?”
Another nod.
“Say it, Jers. I need to hear you say it. You need to hear it come out of your mouth.”
“I’m in.”
“If he killed them, he dies.”
Another nod.
“No. Say it!”
Jersey swallowed and narrowed her eyes. “If he killed them … he dies.”
“Attagirl.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
“Hi.” Jersey tripped over her attempted enthusiasm when Ian called her after nearly two weeks of nothing but short texts. “No video chat today?”