Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I have to get up. I shuffle off the couch and move away, heart racing, sweat beading down my back. What is it about this guy? Why does my body react like I want him to kiss me again, when all I really need is for him to get the hell out of here?
“Come here, look at this.” He’s squinting down at a police report and slowly picks it up between two fingers like it’s filthy and he’s going to contaminate himself by touching it.
“How about you read it to me.”
He smirks but doesn’t comment. “This says there were a few other people working that day. There’s a couple maids, a front desk kid, and the manager. Did the cops interview any of them?”
I pause before walking over. I take the paper from him and skim it, then skim another page, and another, before finally grunting in surprise. “If they did, it’s not anywhere in here. How the hell did I miss that?”
“That’s where we start then.” His smug grin is so infuriating I want to rip it off his face.
“I think this is the most painful thing I’ve ever had to say in my life, but you’re right. We should talk to them.”
“My favorite words. Say them again, my frigid princess.”
“Get out of my apartment.”
“Oh, come on. Say my name and tell me that I’m right.”
“You’re sick. Do you remember the boundaries?”
“I remember them. I simply don’t care.”
I sigh and rub my face. As infuriating as he may be, the fact that the other employees apparently weren’t questioned is a massive breach of protocol. It’s possible the prosecution hasn’t sent it over yet but—
It could be something else. Something bigger.
I sit on the floor cross-legged and start taking some notes. “All right, I have work. You can go now.” I try to read and pretend like he doesn’t exist, but he’s watching me the whole time, and I quickly give up. “Seriously, why are you still here?”
“Let me ask you something,” he says. “Why are you like—this?” He gestures at me.
“That’s insanely insulting, you know.”
“This whole ice queen thing. Where’s it come from?”
“I’m not—” I clench my jaw and take a calming breath. “Angelo, I’m not interested in talking about my personal life with you. Boundaries.”
“It’s gotta be your parents, right?” He tilts his head. “Yeah, it’s always the parents.”
“Angelo.” I stand up and stare at him, seething, hands curled into fists at my sides.
“Come on, frigid princess. I bet your mommy and daddy are rich but didn’t give you enough love. Am I right?”
“You’re not right. I’m ten seconds away from hauling you out of here myself.”
“I’d love to see you try.” He leans back and crosses his legs. “Come on, I’ll tell you about my tragic backstory if you tell me about yours.”
“No, thank you.” I turn away from him and sink back to the floor. Whatever game he’s playing, I’m not interested in talking about my past, because the worst part of it all is that he’s right.
Or at least he’s partially right.
“You know what gets me, princess? You and me are like complete opposites. You’ve been given everything, haven’t you?”
“No, not even remotely.”
“You went to Blackwoods College. You work for a big, fancy law firm. How can you tell me you weren’t handed a perfect future on a silver platter?”
I take a deep breath and try to think calming thoughts—waterfalls, wind through prairie grass, the sound of a computer fan buzzing on an otherwise silent night—but nothing seems to work.
This bastard knows how to crawl under my skin.
“I wasn’t handed anything. I got straight As in high school and got a massive academic scholarship to college.”
He looks surprised. “Straight As, huh? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I dropped out in ninth grade.”
“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, either.”
“When it’s either work and help your grandmom pay her rent or go to school and watch her get kicked out, the decision’s pretty easy.”
I hesitate, not in the mood to get pulled into this conversation, but curiosity gets the best of me. “Did you live with her?”
“I did. My parents passed when I was nine. I barely remember them anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not. They were both drunks. Mom was driving and absolutely shitfaced the night she swerved into oncoming traffic on the Blue Route and got four people killed.”
I look away and try to imagine what it must’ve been like growing up with that. “I can empathize more than you realize.”
“Yeah? You got something you want to share.”
I level my gaze at him and shake my head. “Not even remotely.”
His lips curl. “Yeah, I figured. Girl like you, what’s the point? You already made your mind up about me, didn’t you?”
“All I know is I have work and you’re a distraction.”
“Understood.” He stands and stretches. “As much as I love driving you crazy, I do want you to get my boy out of prison. Let me know when it’s time to do some interviews.”