Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I slip off my T-shirt and toss it on the chair in the corner of the room, followed by my jeans and boxers. I walk into the bathroom, heading straight for the shower and turning it on. I step in just as the water turns from cold to warm and then to hot. I place my hands on the marble wall and let the hot water pour down my neck. I take the longest shower I’ve taken in a while because I had to give myself a hand job when I thought about going to see Gabriella. Turning the water off and opening the glass door, I snatch a towel off the rack and wrap it around my waist. I brush my teeth before I walk back to the bedroom and put on blue jeans and a white shirt.
Going back to the bed, I press zero for the front desk. “Good afternoon, Mr. Beckett.” Frederick picks up. “How may I assist you?”
“Hey, Frederick, would it be possible to get a car?” I ask, opting not to take the bike.
“Of course, I can have one ready now,” he says.
“Great, I’ll come down and get the keys,” I tell him before I disconnect the line. I grab my aviator sunglasses and cell phone before I make my way down to the lobby. Frederick is waiting at the elevator when I step off it.
“I have your car waiting,” he states, turning and making his way to the back door.
The black Mercedes is waiting for me with a driver holding open the back door. “Oh, I don’t need a driver,” I inform him, holding out my hand for the keys.
The driver has no idea what to say, so he looks at me and back to Frederick, who just nods at him. “The keys are in the cupholder,” the driver says to me.
“Great, thanks,” I reply, walking around the car, looking at Frederick who is telling the driver something. He closes the door and rushes back into the hotel. “I’ll call you if I need anything,” I tell him as soon as I open the driver’s door and get in.
Once I’m in the air-conditioned car, I type in a florist before I leave. Following the directions of the GPS, I stop at this small flower shop. Instead of roses, I grab a bouquet of sunflowers, and she wraps them in brown paper before handing them to me.
It takes me thirty-five minutes to finally arrive at Gabriella’s house. I look over and see that the front window has the curtains open. Opening the car door, I reach over and pick up the flowers before walking up the five steps to her door. I’m even more nervous today than I was yesterday. I ring the doorbell, and my neck starts to get instantly hot. I look at the black door, waiting to hear the lock click open. I wait a minute before ringing again, looking right to left before I see movement on the floor.
“I see your shadow,” I announce once I know she is close to the door.
She groans, instantly making my heart soar. I hear the door unlock before she swings it open. She’s wearing frayed jean shorts and a white crop top showing off her midriff. “Why are you here again?” she asks in a whine before I put the sunglasses on top of my head so I can see her clearly. Her hair is tied up on top of her head, and her face is makeup-free.
“Well, you said you didn’t want to go to dinner.” I smile at her. “So I thought I would bring dinner to you.” I hold out the flowers to her, but her hand never leaves the handle of the door.
She looks at me, and if looks could kill, I would definitely be dead in this instant. Better yet, she looks like she could skin me alive, which makes my pulse speed up as I watch her eyes take me in. I’ve missed a lot about Gabriella, but I think the thing I missed most is how she never fell for my bullshit. “I said no.” She folds her hands over her chest, cocking her hip to one side.
“Maybe we can have a picnic?” I smirk at her, knowing how much she loved it when we did it.
“Fuck no.” She shakes her head.
“Then we’ll go out,” I say as if it’s a good compromise.
“Why in the world would I want to go out with you?” she asks but doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “Surely, you can find someone else in that black book of yours.” Shot fired. “I’m sure hundreds of women are just waiting for Romeo Beckett to look their way.” Shot right to the heart like a bull’s-eye on a dartboard. I try to make out as if the comment doesn’t bother me, but it does. In so many fucking ways.