Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Not the least bit impressed by my monologue, she walks to the nearest counter and picks up a phone. “I need security down here in section five.”
I glare at her. “Are you kidding me?”
She gives me a cold look. “I can assure you that I don’t kid.”
“Fine.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’ll leave.”
“Not before you show me your bag.”
“What the fuck?”
“No need to get aggressive.”
“Aggressive..?” I look at her name badge. “Anastacia, if I were to get aggressive, you’d know about it.”
“If you don’t show me your bag—”
“Why are you asking to see inside my bag? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Because I have reason to believe you might have taken something that doesn’t belong to you.”
I put my hands on my hips. “And what reason is that?”
She gives me another one of those judgmental sweeps up and down my body.
I cock an eyebrow at her. “Well?”
She looks at me as if I am the bane of her existence. “I must insist you open your bag and allow me to see the contents inside.”
“And I must insist you go to hell.”
Things kind of go downhill from there.
I make it to the front door, but the moment I take a step outside of the building, the security officer arrives, and I get hauled away to the security office beneath the building.
Remember the scarf I was falling for when I spied Lilah and Jules?
Yeah, in my sudden preoccupation with seeing my best friends go on about their best lives without me, I accidentally put it in my bag.
“I swear to God, I have never stolen anything in my life,” I plead to the security officer when he calls the police. “It was a simple mistake. I saw my friends, well, my ex-friends, so I quickly hid behind a display of evening gowns so they wouldn’t see me, and somehow I must’ve put the scarf in my bag without thinking. I’m not a thief. Really, I’m not. I used to shop here all the time.”
But the security officer isn’t having any of it.
When the police arrive, they drag me away like some criminal in handcuffs, and I am charged with shoplifting.
19
BIANCA
Just when I think things couldn’t get any worse, the situation takes a dive for the bottom of the barrel.
“So this is what you do in your spare time.”
I look up when I hear the familiar voice.
Massimo.
He’s standing in the doorway looking stupid sexy in a black button-up shirt and black pants. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, showing off his tattoos.
I straighten in my chair and the handcuffs around my wrists jangle. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard a rumor that New York’s finest had a scarf-stealing thief down at the station. Thought I’d come check it out for myself.”
I roll my eyes. “Who told you?”
“I have eyes and ears all over this town.”
“Are you having me followed?”
Of course he is.
Not that he’d ever admit it.
“So why are you here? Come to gloat about seeing me in cuffs?”
“I know there’s a witty comment to be made about cuffs here, but I’m short on time.” He looks at the officer sitting at the desk writing something up. “Is she free to leave?”
“As a bird,” the officer says with relief. “But I warn you, it’s at your peril.”
Okay, let’s back it up a bit.
So after I realized no amount of tears or pleading was going to get me off this stupid shoplifting charge, I might’ve become a little sassy. And by sassy, I mean really mouthy. But that’s only because I am having the mother of bad days.
But I wasn’t rude to the officer. I find that so distasteful when someone is only trying to do their job without judgement and then someone comes along and screams at them.
But I was emotional. In fact, I’d probably even go as far to say I was exhaustingly emotional. The poor officer wasn’t expecting me to unload my life’s problems on him, but once I started, wild horses weren’t going to stop that shit from pouring out of me.
He gives Massimo a tired look and says, “Go with God, my friend.”
Much to Massimo’s amusement.
On the way out, Massimo pays my fine. When I protest, he says, “Just add it to the debt you already owe me.”
And, of course, I have to agree or end up spending a night in jail for the great scarf-stealing crime that didn’t actually happen.
His sexy black car is parked in a No Parking zone, and we slide in.
“Where to?” Massimo asks me.
I think of the motel I’m staying at, and it’s the last place I want him to take me.
So I lie and give him the address of an apartment complex in Midtown where an old friend of mine from my party days used to live. I know the building code, so at least I’ll be able to get into the lobby and fool Massimo into thinking I live there.