Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
I feel like a real-live princess, but the practical girl in me knows better.
By the time I return to the kitchen, I feel good and refreshed, ready for dinner. “Is this mine?” I pick up the oversized glass of red and sniff it the way I learned in Napa.
Damien smiles over his shoulder. “I figured we could share.”
“Sounds good.” I take a sip and slide the glass back across the counter. “What are you making?”
“You’ll see.” I watch his shirtless back as he stirs and whisks, the muscles in his shoulders shifting with every movement. There’s something mesmerizing about it. “How’s work going?”
“Not great,” I admit, exhaling. “I think we made some progress today, but nothing concrete enough to keep the brass or the politicians happy.” I pause, bracing myself for some dismissive comment or a vague question, but, once again, Damien surprises me.
“It takes time to catch guys like this, right?” he says, without looking up.
“Yeah,” I say, taken aback by his understanding. “Unless they make a stupid mistake, most are notoriously hard to catch. It just takes time.” I feel the usual frustration rise in me, something the brass forgets the moment the mayor rants about optics, headlines and poll numbers. “It’s dragging out longer than I expected, but we’re getting there. Progress is progress, I guess.”
He glances over his shoulder. “What happens if he just stops?”
I shrug, trying to sound more casual than I feel. “Then some rookie who’s still in high school right now will probably end up solving this string of cold cases years down the line.” I offer a half-hearted smile. “Honestly, I’d be fine with that if it meant no more dead bodies.”
He turns, surprised, picking up the glass of wine. “You really mean that.”
“I do,” I say, meeting his gaze. “Less hurt and suffering…that’s always a win.” It feels good to talk about my day without diving into crime scene details or procedures. “Work’s been keeping you busy lately, too.”
“Yeah,” he says, transitioning into a rundown of problems with software interfaces and brain recognition.
I shake my head, smiling. “I don’t understand a damn thing you’re talking about, but it sounds frustrating.”
“It is,” he replies with a small chuckle. “On both accounts. But, as they say, idle hands are the devil’s work.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You surprise me. I didn’t realize you were religious.”
“Oh, my beautiful Francesca,” he says, his eyes darkening with that familiar, dangerous charm. His voice dips low as he steps closer, the air between us crackling. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch making me shiver.
“There’s a lot you don’t realize about me.”
CHAPTER NINE
Damien
Things are settling down after a few weeks of chaos—like the discovery of the cameras in Frankie’s home, her staying with me, and the unexpected love bomb she dropped in Napa.
Now, as my life returns to a semblance of normalcy, I find myself focused on a new task. Tracking Adrian Sharma without his knowledge and uncovering the secrets he believes are hidden from everyone else.
His favorite drink is Stella Artois. He focuses on his arms and abs more than his legs and back during his three weekly trips to Fitness World. I also know he talks trash with his work friends, but they don’t really like him and gossip about him behind his back. In that sense, he hasn’t changed much from the asshole kid I knew in passing at Hope House.
Tonight, Adrian skips drinks with his friends as he leaves the office, his eyes glued to his phone while he crosses the parking lot. I’ve already cloned his phone onto mine, and glance at it, seeing a text from a woman named Lea asking if he’s coming over tonight.
“Of course, babe.” He replies smoothly, so easily, as if he doesn’t have a wife at home who loves him.
A quick search tells me a little bit about Lea, a beautiful woman smitten with the single guy she met at a bar. I wonder if she really believes he’s single or if she’s convinced herself to believe his lies for the sake of being in a relationship with him.
Maybe she knows and doesn’t care. Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. Lea isn’t my problem. She might be an obstacle, but she’s not my target.
I follow Sharma to a small hilltop apartment building in Silver Lake. He parks in Lea’s guest spot right out in the open, not a care in the world if someone sees or notices his car.
Bold. Or stupid, depending on how you look at it.
Sharma bounds up the stairs with more energy than he has going into the house he shares with his wife. The door opens and a redhead jumps in his arms to greet him, kissing him like he’s a soldier who’s been off fighting wars. The kiss lasts for several minutes before they separate, grinning at each other like giddy fools, then disappearing inside.