Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Zane gets out and punches a code in at the door, then leads us up three flights of stairs. “You have the key,” he mumbles at me. I hand him his keyring, and he finds the right one and pushes it in the lock.
The apartment is small but nice. Worn oak flooring, walls painted white except for the random accent in muted teal and plum. There are tastefully framed black and white art photos. Everything is relatively neat. I stop and pick up a framed picture of what looks like Zane’s high school graduation. He’s in his cap and gown, a young woman tucked under one arm.
“Is this Chelle?” The woman is much smaller than him, but they share the same facial features—the shape of their nose and mouth, their coloring.
“Leave her out of this,” Zane snarls.
I don’t comment. I have no intention of harming his sister, but I’m not above making him think I will. I learned the art of intimidation from Ravil, our pakhan. I know it’s more what you don’t say, what you merely imply, than what you really do. Let their imaginations run wild. Let them wonder how much we are actually capable of. The truth is, while we may operate on the wrong side of the law for many of our business operations, there’s still a code we live by. Harming innocent women isn’t something we do.
I bring the photo closer to my face to inspect it. Chelle is actually quite lovely. She’s petite—I doubt she’s much taller than five feet and everything about her is diminutive. Her dark brown hair cascades in long waves over her shoulders, and there’s a smattering of freckles across her nose. I can’t tell if it’s just the way the light hits her eyes in the photo, but her irises appear less hazel than Zane’s and more golden.
Zane’s gone to a filing cabinet in the small nook of the living room that she appears to use as an office and is rooting through it. “I mean it. Chelle has nothing to do with this.”
I’m glad Zane isn’t a complete douche. His desire to protect his sister from his foibles scores a few points with me.
“Did you find the title?”
Zane is tearing file folders out, rooting through them, and tossing them on the floor. Eventually, he stands. “Here it is.”
He limps over and thrusts the title under my nose.
“Sign it,” I instruct him.
“It will have to be notarized.”
I smirk. “I’ll take care of that.”
“Can you just keep it and give it back to me when I pay you off?”
“No. I need cash. Consider yourself lucky that I’m willing to handle this transaction for you. Me giving you full value is a fucking gift, so show some appreciation and get me the rest of my money.”
“I will, I will.” Zane picks up a pen and signs it over to me. I hold my palm out for the keys, and he unwinds the car key from the ring. “I’m sorry, man. I will get the rest of it.”
I pocket the key and drop a hand on his shoulder. “You are very smart. I know you can figure this shit out. I’ll expect another payment by next Friday, and if I don’t hear from you, we won’t be so kind as we were today.” I make a point of glancing back at the photo of his sister. “I wouldn’t mind involving Chelle in the next transaction. She looks like a hot one.”
Zane makes a choking sound, but we’re already making our exit.
He can find his own ride back to the dorms.
Chelle
“I need you to work on the media buys for these two new clients,” my boss, Janette, tells me, dropping two file folders on my desk at six o’clock.
There goes tonight’s spin class.
Despite my position as a glorified secretary, I’m grateful to be her assistant. As the founder and head of Image First Publicity, she’s a bad-ass publicist, turning her minority-owned business into a multiple seven-figure enterprise within three years.
That’s why I’m here long past five, when my day is supposed to end. I don’t leave until she does because I’m trying to prove I’m worthy of an assistant publicist position with my own accounts.
I love the job. I find publicity both fascinating and glamorous. I definitely have aspirations of running my own firm someday. But to do that, I have to work from the ground up, which means when Janette snaps, I run. Because this business is highly competitive and there are at least a dozen people at the firm who would kill for my job. So for the moment, I’m resigned to having no social life.
Which is fine since my last three Bumble dates were a total flop. I’m not missing much.
Except for sex.
I definitely miss sex.
A little physical pleasure now and then would be nice.