Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Yes.”
He hugs me tighter. “Cold?”
“No.”
We sip our drinks, watching the fire as the food grills. The conversation that died at my arrival doesn’t resume. I suppose they were talking about subjects I’m not supposed to hear, such as their next heist or how to launder their stolen money. My stomach clenches at the thought.
When the food is ready, Leon lights a paraffin lamp on the table while Ian puts me on my feet and carries over the chairs. Ruben places the meat on the table and removes the clingwrap from grated carrot and potato salads. He unfolds a teacloth to reveal a steaming maize loaf.
Ian seats me and places a napkin in my lap before serving me.
Leon, who sits on the opposite side of the table, leans over and sniffs the butternut. “What’s that?”
“Stuffed butternut,” Ian says.
Leon makes a face. “It doesn’t look appetizing.”
I cut into the meaty part and scoop up a portion of stuffing. Flavors of grilled sweet pepper, onion, garlic, and feta cheese create a delicious blend with the butternut. Hints of nutmeg and thyme linger on my tongue. Pine nuts add a crunchy texture.
“It’s delicious,” I ensure Leon. “My compliments to Shona.”
“Ian made it,” Leon says.
I glance at Ian in surprise. It’s not his cooking skills that catch me off guard. It’s his consideration.
“Thank you,” I say, touched by his effort.
His smile is warm. “You’re welcome.”
The conversation flows with difficulty. The men aren’t used to small talk, and since they can’t discuss business in front of me, there’s not much to say.
At the end of the meal, Leon pushes to his feet. “I’m going for a shower, and then I’m heading out. I need to get laid.”
I’m not a prude, but the blatant declaration makes my cheeks heat.
Ruben follows suit. “About time. The usual place?”
“Let’s round up in twenty minutes.” Leon looks at Ian. “You coming?”
Every muscle in my body tenses. The idea of Ian fucking someone else while he’s fucking me makes me want to be sick. I try not to show how the notion affects me, but I’m tighter than a canvas stretched over a frame as I hold my breath while waiting for his answer.
Ian throws an arm around my shoulder. “Maybe some other time.”
Some other time? That’s the worst answer ever.
From the look on his face, Leon doesn’t like the answer either, but I’m guessing not for the same reason as me. He’s unhappy that his brother isn’t joining them. He hovers for a second before he says in a blasé way clearly designed to disguise his disappointment, “Suit yourself.”
When Ian doesn’t react, Leon takes a rifle leaning on the trunk of the tree and saunters off toward the footpath. Ruben flashes me with a smile that seems anything but friendly as he grabs a second rifle and follows.
I don’t look at Ian when I say, “Don’t let me hold you back.”
He draws circles on my shoulder with his thumb. There’s humor in his tone. “You want me to go?”
I cross my arms. “You’re free to do as you please.”
Leaning closer, he plants a kiss on my neck. “Jealous?”
No is on the tip of my tongue, but I’ve made a vow to hold onto my truth, at least as much as possible. The only answer I can give him is silence.
“Don’t be such a spitfire,” he says. “You can admit to being jealous. I won’t hold it against you. I’ve never considered possessiveness as a nasty trait. As a matter of fact, I’d be flattered.”
I fix him with a stare. “Go to hell.”
“You’re right about one thing, baby doll. I am free to do as I please, and what will please me tonight is giving that mouth of yours something better to do than sassing me.”
I’m on my feet before he can say more. Irrational anger throbs in my throat. I have no right to stake a claim on him. He never said this thing between us is exclusive. We’re not in a relationship. I don’t even want to be. I just idiotically assumed he wouldn’t touch another woman while he’s fooling around with me. Have I been wrong?
I grab a few empty dishes and escape his presence by carrying them to the kitchen, ignoring the pain in my ankle when I put my full weight on it. He whistles as he follows, his arms loaded with plates and bowls. He lets me stew in silence as we rinse the dishes and pack the dishwasher. By the time we’re done, Leon and Ruben walk into the kitchen.
I do a double take. Leaning on the counter, I can’t help but stare. Both men are dressed in suits. They look like they’re going to a fancy, ten-thousand-rand-a-head event. Ruben is wearing a dark suit with a silver tie, and Leon’s blue suit is cut to the latest European fashion with a fitting jacket and skinny pants. They smell of expensive cologne, and they’ve shaved. Leon’s dark hair is brushed back, and Ruben’s curls are tamed.