Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
I fiddle with the coaster. “Hey, sorry, it’s busy tonight,” Anya says, leaning over the bar in front of me. “Want a drink?”
“Yes,” I say, with not much thought at all. “Yes, I want a drink.” Bring me all the drinks. “I’ll have a vodka tonic. Easy on the tonic.” Anya dances off to get my drink, and I put my head in my hands. What the hell am I going to do?
“Hey.” Beau pulls at my wrist. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” I smile lamely and accept my drink, taking a good healthy glug, squeezing my eyes shut, blowing out my cheeks. She really did go easy on the tonic.
“Did you check her ID?” Brad asks Anya as he passes.
I grit my teeth as Anya rolls her eyes. Beau spins on her stool and glares at him. “Fuck off, Brad.” She took the words right out of my mouth.
“Pregnancy’s making you feisty.”
“God, you’re a dick.” Beau swivels back. “I don’t like him right now.”
“Me neither,” I muse.
“Mind if I join you?”
I drop my eyes to my glass. I don’t want to look. I can already sense the awkwardness coming from Beau. I don’t want people to feel like this around me. Around Brad and me. And now around Allison and me. God, and they don’t know the half of it. But whatever they think they know, I need to squash it.
I pull a smile out of the bag and swivel on my stool. “Sure, have a seat.” I reach back and pull the next stool closer. “Would you like a drink?”
Allison sits and rests her handbag on her lap, smiling. I can feel Beau eyeing me. “I’ll have an Aperol Spritz, please.”
“Anya,” I call. “An Aperol Spritz for Allison, when you’re ready.” I slurp back my drink, wincing at the strength again. I’m in a sea of predicaments, struggling to swim. But really, Brad is the least of my worries. The call from the unknown number has shaken me. How did he get my number? “You look lovely,” I say, taking another sip, swallowing hard, blinking. Allison looks no different to the perfect woman I saw this morning.
“Thank you.”
“Welcome.” My eyes catch Beau’s. I avoid her interested, raised brows. And silence falls. I’m out of words.
“Allison’s a lawyer,” Beau says, and I nearly spit out my drink. “A criminal lawyer.” She gives me a smile. It’s fake. It’s a I’m-smiling-because-Allison-will-think-it’s-weird-if-I-don’t smile.
“A criminal lawyer,” I parrot, diving back into my drink. Brad, The American, one of the most notorious crime lords of America, probably even the fucking world, is fucking a criminal lawyer? Does she know who he is? “Nice.”
Allison looks toward the offices. “Is everything okay? With Rose, I mean.”
“Oh.” Beau waves a hand flippantly. “Just a lover’s tiff.”
Allison nods, surely not convinced—she’s a fucking lawyer after all—and looks at the spot where a woman just landed in a pile, courtesy of Rose throwing her there. Who was that woman? I notice Beau’s thinking the same. Everyone has descended on the club, so something’s going down. What? And is that why Fury has been babysitting me all day? Curious, I glance over to the men.
“Brad’s got a nice club here.” Allison’s eyes settle on the stage where legs are wrapped around poles and tits are rubbing up the metal. Is that what she thinks he does? Just runs a strip club?
“Yeah,” I muse.
“Yeah.” Beau’s still smiling, although awkwardly. For God’s sake.
“Shame about his apartment,” she goes on. What the hell has he told her happened to his apartment, because I’m pretty sure it won’t be that Beau’s mother blew it up? “The fire,” she prompts, and Beau and I both visibly sag on our stools.
“Yeah, terrible,” Beau says. “Completely destroyed. So you’re from Miami?”
Yes. Change the subject.
“No, I’m from out of state. Washington, actually. I moved here a few months ago.”
“Oh, so you’re still getting to know the place?” Beau asks, a definite dig for information. Has Allison been living under a rock? She’s a lawyer, and she’s never heard of Brad?
“Yeah, I’ve been focused on settling into the new company, but”—she looks past me, smiling—“well, now I’ve met Brad.”
Oh my God, she’s falling for him. I look back too, finding the man himself with the others, eyes like slits, watching us. I quickly look away. “How long have you known him?”
“We’ve been dating a few months.”
Dating. I flick my eyes to Beau as I take more vodka. For months. She’s shaking her head mildly, in disbelief, I think. Anya sets a stemmed bowl glass on the bar and I pass it to Allison. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” She taps my glass with hers and Beau lifts a can of Pepsi. “Of course,” Allison says, smiling. “How far are you?”
“Four months.” Beau feels at her tummy, and I smile, my happiness for her quite overwhelming. “Do you have kids?”