Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
I waved him away, sliding inside and closing the door myself. “Casa al Mare. 10k if you can get me there in half the time.”
Four minutes.
The conversation needed to be completed in four minutes. That would give me enough time to fly back to Maryland, change and shower, then track down Farrow.
We passed row after row of lush villas. I ignored them all, checking an alert from my security system.
Farrow.
In the gallery. Twirling around with random sculptures like a schoolgirl.
She finally got the pendant. It only took her thirty fucking days. But it wouldn’t be Octi if she didn’t push me past my comfort zone.
The Rolls Royce rolled up to a limestone manor, overlooking a private strip of the gulf. I swung the door open and stormed up the cobblestone steps before the car even pulled to a stop.
Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” blared from somewhere out back. I followed the heavy notes to the oversized terrace, expecting to yank out speakers.
Instead, I came face-to-face with a cellist.
He paused, tilting his head at me, lips curled down at the sight of my untamed hair and two-day-old outfit. “Can I help you?”
“If you’d like to continue your music career, I suggest you set down your bow and shut the fuck up.”
“Zee Zee.” Eileen stretched on a yoga mat, soaring from the staff pose into the mountain pose. “How lovely to see you.”
Zee Zee?
Of all the worst nicknames I’d ever been called, that topped the list. Above Oliver’s Rumpleforeskin and Ayi’s Zachy Poo Poo.
I ignored her greeting, strode to the table beside her, and set down my phone, starting the timer.
She paused, pointing at it. “What’s that?”
“This conversation needs to be completed in four minutes.”
“But—”
“I would say that we’re done, Miss Yang, but we never really started.” I collected my phone, glancing at the timer. 3 minutes and 56 seconds left. “That took longer than I expected.”
I left behind a gust of wind in my wake as I redirected to the exit.
The place was everything I expected from Celeste Ayi’s second ex-husband. Gaudy, over-the-top, and dripping with gold. Gold couch. Gold tables. Gold-plated espresso machine.
Eileen chased after me. “Wait. That’s it?”
I kept walking. “What else is there to say?”
“I don’t know?” She waved her hands, jogging now. “Anything.”
“Unfortunately, your desperation has rendered me speechless.” I slid into the car, sparing her one final thought before I bid her farewell for good. “Keep the fucking ring. Goodbye, Eileen.”
D-DAY.
So much for no unnecessary risks.
A violent storm greeted me near the end of my flight home. I sat at a table, drafting what I planned on saying to Octi.
The cabin jostled back and forth, knocking my drink onto my notepad. Iced tea, not scotch. I needed to be sober for this.
The words on the page grew before they blurred together.
Lovely.
Not like it mattered.
I’d gotten approximately three words written down, stuck on how to convince Farrow to spend the rest of her life with me.
“Mr. Sun?” The flight attendant approached, clinging on to the edge of the table for support. “We’re flying through severe turbulence. The captain has advised you to put on your seatbelt.”
“Is it safe to fly?”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Yes or no answers only.”
She fidgeted with her pencil skirt, eyeing the cockpit. “I’ll bring back the co-pilot. Just a moment.”
As she scurried away, I returned to the bigger problem at hand. I had no experience with people, let alone relationships.
Romeo’s forced marriage with Dallas could hardly be considered the pinnacle of romance.
As for Ollie, his only commitment to date was with his right hand. (And even that could be considered dubious, given the entire wing in his mansion dedicated to sex toys.)
“Mr. Sun?” The co-pilot claimed the seat across from me, propping his tablet up on the stand. “A sudden storm hit our path. We’re above Delaware right now.” He pointed to a speck on the map. “We may have to travel around the storm and circle in the air until it’s safe to land.”
I checked my watch. “Will it add time to the flight?”
“Maybe an hour to travel around the storm. No ETA on how long we’ll be circling until visibility thresholds are met and we can land.” He zoomed out on the map. “As is, we’re a little over thirty minutes until landing. We have enough fuel to hold for ten hours if needed.”
I couldn’t even afford a minute.
According to Romeo, Farrow would be at a fencing competition in a couple hours. I planned on watching the entire thing with her after convincing her to marry me.
I held his gaze, tossing my ruined notepad to the side. “We’ll keep on this path.”
“We can’t. Potomac Airfield contacted us. It’s not safe to land there. Or anywhere in the D.C. region, for that matter.”
“I need to be in Potomac. Now.”
“Our alternative choice is to land now in Delaware. It’s about a four-hour drive to Potomac, but there’s a storm here as well. The visibility is better but not great.”