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)
“Just ask.” He waves his glass in the air.
“Ash invited us to dinner at the mansion with her and Carson tomorrow. We’re going.”
His face drops. “I don’t think so.”
“We’re going,” I repeat. “Or I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”
“That’s not part of the deal.”
“You want to know what being married’s like so bad? Well, now you get to feel the silent treatment.”
He sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “I absolutely hate clichés.” I say nothing, only stare at him. “You’re really going to try not talking to me.” I look at my nails as if he’s not in the room. “That’s obnoxious. I actually hate it.” I hum to myself, turning my head to glance at the window. He sighs. “Fine, we’ll go to dinner. I was going to give in eventually anyway. Might as well do it now.”
“Perfect,” I say, sitting up straight. “Now, I have another request.”
“If it involves my family, please just put a gun to my head and pull the trigger instead.”
“Don’t be dramatic, darling.” I wave a hand at him. “No, all I want is for you to tell me something.”
“What do you want to know?” He sounds hesitant now.
I lean forward, letting him get a good view of my breasts. He doesn’t take the bait. Bastard. “Jamila.”
“Your friend. Cute, good personality, solid 8/10.”
“Uh, I wasn’t asking for rating.” I pause, narrowing my eyes. “What am I?”
“You’re a cool ten.” He sips his drink. “Though you’re an eleven in my heart.”
I groan. “You’re pathetic.”
“You love it.”
“No, I don’t want you to rate my best friend. I want you to tell me why she hates you so much.”
He stiffens. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He takes another sip of his drink, clearly stalling for time, and that clinches it for me.
Nolan knows something about Jamila that I don’t.
“Why are you asking me?” He cocks his head. “I barely know the girl.”
“Ash said something. Like she’s aware of why Jamila would have reason to hate you. And if Ash knows…” I trail off, gesturing at him.
He sighs, rubbing his face. “Fucking Ash.”
“Tell me, Nolan.”
“You won’t like it.”
“That doesn’t matter. What did you do?”
He grunts at that. “Why do you assume I did something wrong?”
“Because it’s a good bet.”
“In this case, you’re right, which is very annoying.” He stands, pacing across the room. “I did nothing to her. Not in particular, at least. It was ten years ago, when I was young and coming up in the world.”
I sit back, crossing my arms over my chest, waiting. But he stops talking and stares at the fireplace instead, sipping his whiskey like he’s trying out for a dramatic part in a Shakespeare play.
I snap my finger at him. “Hello? Nolan? This is the part of the monologue where you tell me something useful.”
He glares at me. “I’m thinking of how I can put it.”
“Just say the words. You’re starting to freak me out.”
“Do you know who her family is?”
I hesitate, not sure how to respond. “Uh, she’s got a mom in the city,” I say. “Her father ran off when she was little. She’s not close with the rest of her family from what I can tell. She never really talks about them.”
He nods, not looking surprised. “Ever wonder why?”
“No, not really. I don’t talk about my family, either.” Which isn’t a good point, considering I don’t talk to my family because they’re assholes.
“Jamila’s father was a member of a minor but powerful Pakistani crime organization.”
My mouth drops open. “What? Are you serious?”
“Very serious.” He turns to face me. “Ten years ago, they began expanding their operation by smuggling heroin through Afghanistan, into their home country, then into America through Turkish intermediaries. We found out about the scheme and while they weren’t undercutting our margins in any significant way, we still couldn’t abide them selling in our city.”
“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “You sell heroin?”
He ignores my question. “We tried to negotiate first. I offered them generous terms, but they weren’t interested. Things escalated. There was a minor but bloody war.”
I groan, putting my face in my hands. “You didn’t tell her father, did you?”
“No,” he says, but hesitates. “Probably not. I did kill some of her cousins though.”
“Not you, personally?” He doesn’t respond. “This is insane. No wonder she hates you!”
“I wanted her to be the one to tell you, but I can see that’s not going to happen. Believe me when I say, this isn’t ideal.”
“No kidding,” I say, sitting back with my eyes closed. “She’s never going to forgive me for this.”
“You didn’t know.” He steps toward me but thinks better of it.
“Why does she hate you, but not Carson?” I open my eyes again. “You’re both Crowleys.”
“Carson wasn’t involved in the war. He negotiated the settlement. He was the carrot, while I was the very sharp and very bloodthirsty stick.” He smiles slightly, head tilted. “I might’ve made my reputation during the fighting.”