Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
"You want a piglet?" Fenway asked, considering. "I shall fill your house with them when we get back to the States."
See, the thing was, Fenway would do exactly that. Because he was all about the grand gestures without stopping to consider the repercussions of those actions.
"Fenway, listen to me," I said, holding a palm up at him. "It is very important that you do not fill my house with pigs, okay? I never get to be there. I don't have the time for pets."
"I hear they can be trained to use a litter box like a cat," Bellamy mused.
"Oh my God, we are not having this discussion like we are having a perfectly normal social call."
"We are, though," Fenway insisted.
When my tequila came, I reached for it, tucking it between my legs as I went ahead and opened the bottle Fenway had given me. If I was going to get out on top of this situation, I needed to stop the banging in my temples. The tequila? Well, that was just because I wasn't sure it would be possible to deal with these two at the same time without it.
"They're Percocet," Fenway insisted when I grabbed a pill, holding it up, squinting at the markings.
"Right, because the two of you have proven so trustworthy," I shot back, deciding it was the real deal, popping it, chasing it with a long sip of the tequila that burned in all the right ways.
"So... frappe?" Fenway pressed.
"Yeah. Because I have plans to get off a boat in a foreign country with druggers, kidnappers, and Greece's biggest crime lord."
"Sounds like a normal Tuesday night for you, sweetheart," Bellamy said, shrugging.
"Except that is for work. This is not work. And since it is not work, I want to be home. In my bed. In my very clean house."
"Finn's been on a job, babe," Bellamy told me, dashing some of my hopes. "Christ, don't look so heartbroken. I will hire someone to clean your place while we're away."
"It won't be the same."
"No," he agreed, nodding, likely having woken up to that heavy chemical smell when Finn had been unable to sleep and came over uninvited, knowing that literally every square inch of his home had been scrubbed. "It wouldn't. But it's better than nothing."
"Nothing is fine. Seeing as I will be home by tomorrow morning."
"Well..." Fenway said, looking shady.
"No, Fenway. There is no 'well...' about this. Send me home. Actually, why the hell am I even talking to you guys? I'll have Quin handle this," I declared, decision made, getting to my feet.
"Well..." Fenway said again.
"Well what, Fenway?" I hissed.
"Well, you could call Quin. If you had your cell phone."
"Where's my cell, Bellamy?" I demanded, feeling my jaw clench.
"I believe you accidentally left it in New Jersey."
"I didn't leave anything anywhere. Since I had no part in coming here."
"And yet... here you are. And there it is. Half the world away."
I knew better than to argue with Bellamy. His stubbornness matched my own.
Turning, I stared down Fenway. "Give me your phone, Fenway."
"I can't do that."
"You want me to make you?"
"You're pretty sexy when you're riled," he shot back, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Phone." He balked, not brave enough to defy what was clearly Bellamy's grand plan. My gaze went to someone who I intrinsically knew would always be able to defy anyone. "May I use your phone, Mr. Adamos?" I asked, letting a little bit of honey slip into my voice, the ability to do so while pissed was thanks to years of honing the skill to get the outcome I desired.
"You'd be willing to sully your unpolluted hands with my blackmailing, crime lord phone?"
"Miller have a seat," Bellamy invited. "Let us explain why we are all here."
"Aside from you being a psychopath?" I asked, dropping down, needing answers if I wasn't going to be able to call Quin.
"Yes, love, aside from that," he agreed, sending me a smile.
"So why am I here?" I asked.
"Business," Bellamy told me.
"If this was official business, Quin would have sent me here," I countered.
"Yes, well Quin would not be a fan of this particular job."
"And yet..." I prompted.
"Christopher is an old friend of mine."
"Half the world is an old friend of yours."
"That can't be right," he mused. "It has to be at least two-thirds. I'm a likable guy."
"That is debatable. But, Bells, I work for Quin. I don't do private contract work. For a multitude of reasons. Not the least of them being that Quin provides me safety when dealing with shady characters," I said, letting my gaze slide toward Christopher.
"We're right here, doll," Bellamy assured me.
"Yeah, now. But what happens when one of the Victoria's Secret models throws a house party?"
"Clearly, they would take precedent," he told me, lips twitching.
"You wouldn't want us to miss out on that fun, would you?" Fenway asked, putting a hand over his heart.