Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Jamila.”
“No, just, no, forget it. This was always your thing. I was an afterthought from the start. Don’t try to deny it.”
My mouth opens, working, not finding words. She’s abandoning me. Without her help, there’s no way I can make this work.
If she leaves me, the dream is dead.
“You don’t mean that.” My voice comes out choked.
“I’m sorry. I really am, but I can’t do this.” She walks to the door. “Do whatever you want, I give you my blessing, and don’t worry about ever paying me back. What’s money between friends? I can aways go to Ash and ask for a loan, right? Don’t look at me like that, it’s better this way. You wanted to do this all by yourself from the start.”
“That’s not true,” I say as horror sets in.
She’s really walking.
“Good luck, Keels.” She leaves. I watch her move through the front, to the main door, and out onto the street.
Then she’s gone.
Silence rushes in, filling the void where she’d been sitting only a second ago. My head races and I can barely understand what just happened.
Jamila left me. She quit. Without her, I’m doomed.
And all my dreams are doomed too.
Chapter 13
Nolan
I’m pouring myself a whiskey after a long day putting out fires at different strip clubs across town—at least one of those was a literal fire, started by a flexible girl named Paulina when she decided to freebase crack in the bathroom and a bunch of toilet paper went up in flame—when the doorbell rings.
I glance at the time. A little past ten at night. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was one of my various enemies showing up to put a bullet in my head.
But I have a feeling it’s something much more fun.
Though I’m careful to check the security feed before opening the door.
Keely’s standing there on my stoop, looking uncomfortable. She doesn’t say anything at first, only stares up at me with those big, beautiful eyes. She’s in a light blue blouse, the top two buttons undone enough to show just a hint of her lovely cleavage, and a tight pair of jeans. It’s the most dressed up I’ve seen her since the wedding, and excitement pulses into my core.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, my something?”
“I’m here to talk business.” She tilts up her chin. That word, business, makes my fucking dick hard.
Nothing I love more than to negotiate with this girl.
“Then come inside.”
She breezes past me like she owns the place. Soon, if I have my way, she will.
We head into the kitchen. I offer her wine, but she turns me down. I sip my whiskey, considering her from behind the island. I’m tired, worn out from dealing with incompetent drug addicts and violent morons, and I was looking forward to getting drunk enough to sleep. But this is much better.
“I want to start out by saying that I don’t want to be here.” She paces across the kitchen, keeping space between us. “I feel like I have no other options.”
“All right, you said it. Though that’s sort of the point.”
“And I don’t want to agree to anything. But my hand’s been forced.” She stops walking and looks at me. Her expression is strangely pained. “Jamila quit.”
I let out a surprised grunt. “Your partner? What happened?”
“A difference of opinion.” She starts pacing again. “We didn’t agree on certain things, and in the end she thought it was best if she just walked away.” Her voice catches on that last bit, but she shakes her head.
I admire her strength, and a cold anger rushes through me. I don’t like this Jamila girl, not at all. There are things about the girl and her family that Keely should know, though clearly doesn’t. The fact that she’d walk away from her supposed best friend right in this moment is abhorrent. That girl will make this right before I’m finished here.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, though I’m not. I don’t want Keely to get hurt, but I’m also glad she’s here on my doorstep instead of somewhere else. Like speaking to my brother’s wife, Ashlyn.
“No, you’re not,” she says like she can read my mind. It makes me smile despite the difficult, busy day I just had.
“It’s hard to be upset about something that brings you closer to me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let’s talk terms.”
“Very well.” I gesture toward the table. Excitement runs down my spine. I have plenty of terms for her, though I doubt she’ll like them. “Shall we sit?”
She follows reluctantly. I pull out a chair and she plops down, crossing her arms, looking impetuous. I take the seat across from her, taking my time, mulling over my options. Once we’re facing each other, I lean forward, my glass of whiskey between my elbows.
“I’m willing to accept your investment now,” she says, raising her chin. Her eyes remain hard. “But you won’t be a full partner.”