Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
My arms circled her to protect her from the cold. “I’m always here if you need anything.”
She swallowed before she gave a nod. “You’re a good man, Grave.”
She didn’t know me at all. “Goodbye, sweetheart.”
Her hands held on to my arms, and she looked at me like she didn’t want to go. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed me. It was brief and cold, all our passion long gone in our memories. Then she walked away without looking at me again. She didn’t say goodbye.
TWENTY-SEVEN
ELISE
I’d never wanted to do anything less in my life.
But I had kids to feed. Private school to pay for. A nanny on my payroll. I didn’t have the luxury of quitting. I didn’t have the luxury of choosing my clients. I forced myself back to the Underground bar because I had no other choice.
The second I walked inside, I felt his stare.
White-hot and possessive. It came from all the way across the room, but the heat was unmistakable. When I turned to look, I found him sitting in the corner with a drink in hand, in a three-piece suit, a victorious smirk on his lips.
Fuck, can I do this?
I headed to the back and found Jerome in his office. I dropped down into the chair, feeling sick to my stomach.
He fished out the money from the safe and dropped it on the edge of his desk.
My last paycheck from Grave.
I let it sit there because it felt wrong to take it.
“Kyle has already paid in full. He’s eager to get started.”
“Yeah, I saw him.”
“His term is three months.”
“Three months?” I asked incredulously. I had to screw that asshole for three fucking months?
He turned in his chair to look at me. “Elise, what’s up? You’ve had terms longer than that.”
“I know, but…”
“But what?”
I stared at the money on the table, a wad of cash stuffed in an envelope which had already started to tear at the corners. It was impossible not to see Grave’s face, not to feel his hand on my wrist, not to feel those lips on my mouth. To go out there and let Kyle touch me…nothing ever felt so wrong. “I can’t do this, Jerome.”
He cocked his head slightly. “What are you talking about?”
“Give Kyle his money back. The deal’s off.”
His eyes practically popped out of his head. “What the fuck are you saying right now?”
“I’m saying that I’m not screwing Kyle, so give him back his money.”
“Are you insane? I can’t do that.”
“Then you’re gonna screw him for three months.”
He slammed his hand down. “What the fuck has gotten into you, Elise?”
Grave. He got me deep.
“Elise, you have bills to pay.”
“I know…”
“And this isn’t a guy you say no to. I have a waiting list two years out for you.”
“I know…”
“We can’t just stop. I figured you’d understand this better than anyone because you actually spend time with these guys. You can’t just say no. If I go out there and tell Kyle this, we’re both gonna end up in an oil drum.”
“I thought you were supposed to protect me?”
“This is different, Elise. We’re the ones breaking the contract, okay? We’re the ones not keeping our word.”
“He can find someone else—”
“He’s been waiting eight months. He doesn’t want anyone else.”
Fuck.
Jerome stared at me, his eyes frantic. “You’re doing this.”
“I can’t…”
“You’re fucking doing this.”
“No!” I stormed off down the hallway and pulled my phone out of my purse.
Jerome went after me. “What are you doing?”
I called Grave and listened to it ring. We’d said goodbye last night, and I hadn’t gotten more than a few hours of sleep because of it. I felt so shitty.
He answered, his voice slightly surprised. “Elise?” It wasn’t sweetheart anymore.
“I need help. Could you come to the bar?”
He didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t panic. With a voice as calm and smooth as scotch, he said, “I’ll be right there.”
When Grave spotted me in the hallway, he looked me over with his dark eyes, checking for bruises or mistreatment. When he found none, he immediately rounded on Jerome, assuming he was the reason for the distress call. He was in black jeans and a long-sleeved tee, cords visible up his neck.
I grabbed on to his forearm and pulled him close to me.
“You want me to kill him?” His eyes were still on Jerome.
Jerome booked it out of there so fast.
“No.”
He finally looked at me, his eyes angry because he’d expected to rip someone apart.
“Look…I can’t do it.”
Now his eyes narrowed.
“I can’t screw this guy… I can’t screw anyone.”
Once he finally understood the direction of the conversation, he stopped looking so angry.
“You’re the one I want.”
He continued to stare at me, empty of words.
“I wanted to ask…if you could be my client again. A long-term client. I hate to ask for money, but I need to provide for my family, and Jerome needs his cut. I just…can’t be with someone else—”