Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I felt the warm food in my hand and my appetite seemed to come back. I licked my lips anticipating the first bite of real food in days. Once I bit into it, my stomach cried out for more. I ate it within seconds.
“I like a girl who knows her way around a good sausage,” Daimon laughed. I couldn’t help, but laugh at little. Not to make him feel like he had gotten to me, I continued our walk.
“You went at it like you needed it,” Daimon continued. “Damn, Addie, I wonder how you’re going to suck me off,” Daimon smirked; his comment stopped me in my tracks.
“If I could, I would slap you every single day we are married,” I stated.
“Who knows, Addie, I might like that. That kind of hot foreplay might just do it for me.” He smiled from ear-to-ear.
“You seriously have no idea how to talk to a woman. How the hell did you ever get one?” It was a serious question. His smart-mouth, inappropriate comments were all that seemed to come out of his mouth.
“Easy. Money, not to mention, my devilishly handsome looks and this awesome body,” he grinned.
“You’re impossible.”
“I try. Come on. I have somewhere else I want to take you.” He nudged his head toward the town car that was now parked near us.
“See? I didn’t pull you this time.”
Daimon opened the car door for me, but I bit my tongue not to say thank you.
“What, no thanks? You told Charlie thank you.”
“You told me not to,” I shrugged.
We drove for about twenty minutes and then stopped in front of an old-looking townhouse.
Daimon helped me out of the car and led me down the steps to a black door. Underneath the light was a golden plaque that read:
THE RAINES LAW ROOM
Please ring the bell
Someone will attend to you
Daimon rang the bell and someone came shortly afterwards.
“Mr. Evans, come this way, your usual spot has been reserved. You may head to the back of the bar,” said a man who was dressed in old-school bartender getup as he extended his hand.
“Thank you,” Daimon said, taking my hand as he led me through this wondrous place.
Dark wood and numerous chesterfield couches lined the front room. My eyes wandered around finding various people sitting down, in quiet corners, enjoying elegant-looking drinks. We passed a kitchen area, which housed all the mixologists and their tools and finally reached what they called The Parlor. Dark purple suede couches were positioned in front of each other, creating private areas with long velvet curtains that can be drawn back for more privacy. Daimon took me to the last compartment area and sat me down. Once he did, a waiter came in with a platter of various small appetizers. Blackberries, olives along with grapes, and chocolates lay before us. The waiter nodded as he walked away.
“I guess you come here often,” I said, looking around.
“With Rafe and Darren. Not so much with Darren right now,” Daimon explained as he leaned back watching me. I took off my coat and sat more comfortably in my seat. I saw the menu which was to the side of us and picked it up.
“You’re paying, right?” I asked, smiling at him.
“Don’t I always?”
“Just making sure.”
“Are you ready?” The waiter who had previously served us came right back.
“Yes. I’ll have my usual. My wife will have…” Daimon waited.
“The Glenmorangie, neat.”
“Very good choice,” the waiter said, and then left to get our drinks.
“Why did you want to bring me here? This obviously is your place. Why would you want to associate me with it?” I never understood Daimon’s thought process or why he behaved the way he did.
“It’s where I like coming to have a good drink with good company,” he said.
“Don’t you like going to Darren’s?”
“Not really. I only went because I knew you were working there,” he said, watching me carefully.
“But Darren’s your friend. Why wouldn’t you want to go there?”
“Darren was my friend and I don’t like having to feel indebted every time I walked in there. Darren never once took my money and I hated that.”
The waiter came back with our drinks and placed it on the small table that jutted out of the wall. Once he was done, he pulled back the curtain and we were left isolated from the rest of the speakeasy.
“I need to make things right with him. I just don’t know how,” I said as I picked up my drink.
“You don’t.” Daimon lifted his glass and raised it to me before he drank his scotch.
“I can’t do that, not after everything he’s done for me.” Taking my first sip of whiskey, spicy notes and a minty finish was exactly what I was looking for in a good whiskey.
“Darren wants you and I don’t fucking share.” Daimon put his glass down and scowled.