Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I shouldn’t have shut her down so quickly.
Maybe talking it out would have made the whole thing easier to deal with, to analyze, to see through a less confused lens. Especially because, if there was one woman I knew who knew a lot about men, it was Vega.
This was the woman who once spent a week on the white sand beaches on some private island with a damn prince.
An actual prince.
I mean, sure, it was of a small country, but still. It was royalty.
She also claimed the man had wanted more from her, but that she quickly became disinterested because, “He was boring.” And that “Guys like him, who grow up with the whole world oohing and ahhing over every little thing they do, they have no motivation to actually become interesting.”
Personally, I would have chosen the prince over the partially-employed musician that she’d pined over for one whole summer.
But that was me viewing it from an outsider’s perspective.
I couldn’t have known what things were like between them.
And I hadn’t personally ever felt that sort of obsessive interest that she had with him.
Until Cesare.
But maybe talking it out with Vega would be the smartest thing.
Let her give me some gentle advice. Or, at the very least, figure out my own feelings on the whole matter. And, possibly, tell me why he’d walked out like that.
I felt some of the anxiety uncoil as I made up my mind to talk to her on the drive home. My car, unfortunately, wasn’t going to be fixed for another day or two, thanks to a backup at the garage.
It was fine.
It gave us time to talk.
Taking a deep breath, I moved out front to help another customer who left a few moments later, hand clutching a pre-made bouquet that she wanted to give to her friend who’d just found out she was going to be a grandma.
I was just going to go make myself a cup of tea, and relax at my desk for a while.
That was the plan.
Until I walked into the prep room to find a man standing there.
Like he was waiting for me.
He was tall, but not quite as tall as Cesare, but with a stockier build that he had covered in an army-green t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. His brown hair was buzzed short, something that made his somewhat out-turned ears seem to stick out more.
If I hadn’t been so scared, I might have said he was attractive. Wide mouth, stern brow, dark eyes, and a cleft in his chin.
Most women would say he was attractive.
I found him… menacing.
A gasp escaped me, making his head pop up, one of his dark brows slowly lifting.
“Don’t,” he said, tone low yet forceful when I immediately tried to take a step backward. “You run, you make me chase you. And you won’t like what I do to you then,” he said, making my stomach sink.
Goosebumps rose up my arms, over my chest, and down my back.
I was suddenly frozen, actual shivers racking my body.
“What do you want?” I asked, trying to think of a way out of this.
I could scream.
But there was no guarantee anyone was in the businesses next door. What with the new snowstorm and all.
I could run.
But he looked like he worked out. I took long walks in the summer, but I was no athlete. He could easily overtake me.
What was left?
To fight?
As much as I hated to admit it, I wasn’t an overly brave woman. I’d never thrown a punch. I got a little uneasy at the sight of blood.
What was I supposed to do? Grab a pair of shears and jab them into his throat? His eye?
I really didn’t think I could do either of those things. Not even to save my own life.
Lord, that made me sound like a coward.
But it really just seemed like the truth to me.
“Well, I want to have a little chat,” he said, head tipping to the side slightly, watching me as I processed that information.
“A… chat?” I asked, frowning. “About what?”
“The business,” he said, waving an arm around, showing me half of a tattoo on the inside of his arm that disappeared into his t-shirt.
“I, ah, this isn’t my business,” I said, figuring that if this was a Dennis problem, this guy could just go ahead and talk to him, not me. “I could give you the owner’s number,” I invited.
“I don’t want to talk to Dennis,” he said, making my stomach twist. It was one thing, I thought, that he wanted to talk to the general owner. It seemed like a complete other that he knew who the owner was.
“Okay. Ah, what is this regarding?” I asked, saying a silent prayer that someone—anyone—would come into the store, and give me an excuse to move away from this man. Then walk my butt right out onto the street and keep going until I got to a police officer.