Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Don’t do that. I might like ’em too much, and then I’ll be fancy like you.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“For you? Not at all. I’m a big burly son of a bitch, though, can’t walk around bragging about my fancy-ass sheets.”
“Sure you can.” As we stepped off the elevator, I bumped his shoulder, feeling the tension of the long day seep from my shoulders the closer I got to the door. “The women will love it.”
“Well now, that’s a much better selling point.” He laughed and waited until I stepped inside my condo before his smile faded. “Lock the door. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I will. Thanks, Hulu. Have a good night.”
He winked and stood there, waiting for me to close and lock the door. When I did, he gave two sharp knocks, and then I heard his whistling as he walked back toward the elevator.
Why couldn’t I have fallen for a guy like that?
Because you’re too fucked up in the head for a good guy.
Oh, right. That.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jasper
I couldn’t have fucked up that interaction with Mo more if I tried, and it really fucking pissed me off that I even cared.
Mo had always been my good-time girl, sarcastic, sassy and always down for a quick fuck. That was why I liked her from the very start, a tough girl who used her sharp mouth to protect herself from the world.
What was up with her, anyway?
A whore. She accused me of treating her like a whore, and what the fuck was I supposed to do with that? A whore was exactly what she was. Maybe she wanted to sugarcoat it, but she straight up had sex for money and not just with me.
It was no secret that Mo liked the finer things in life. Designer shoes and handbags, fancy vacations and room service meals prepared by five-star chefs. Those things cost money, and she had no problem moonlighting as a sex worker to pay for those things.
So why the fuck was she so angry about the way I treated her?
I took a shot of Velvet Fire, smiling at how much it would piss off Virgil that I shot his sipping whiskey, and then I slammed the glass down hard as I replayed that last fuck in my office.
I wasn’t a cuddler, but Mo’s curves were tempting enough that I sometimes wished we’d cuddle, just for a few more minutes, but that was it. She was a fuck, a damn good fuck but still just a fuck.
Did she expect flowers or chocolates?
“Fuck!” I reached for my phone and dialed Maisie because I didn’t need to hear Kat’s shit.
“Jasper, what’s wrong? It’s four o’clock in the morning.
I frowned at the phone. “Nothing. I need a favor.”
Maisie yawned. “I’m good, Jas. How are you?”
My shoulders fell in resignation because I knew there was no way around it. Maisie wasn’t an asshole like the rest of my siblings, but she was stubborn in her own way.
“I’ve been better, Maisie, but I’m glad to hear you’re all right. Did I wake you?”
“Nah. I’m up already. Drinking coffee and looking for belly dancers for a sunrise barbecue and arranging a luau in the desert.”
She sounded tired but happy, and I was glad I never had to worry about Maisie doing her job. The big spenders had nothing but good things to say about her, and she brought in more cash every quarter.
“Sounds fucking stupid.”
She laughed, and I could almost picture her rolling her eyes at me. “Sounds like people with a lot of money and very exacting standards and incredibly specific expectations. Almost like someone else I know.”
Me. “Who?”
She laughed again. “What’s up, Jas?”
“I managed to piss Mo off somehow. Can you arrange a nice gift for her?”
After a long beat of silence, I frowned. “Maze?”
“I’m here, just thinking.”
“About?”
She let out a sigh. “Never mind all that. A thousand bucks nice? More? Less?”
“Fuck if I know,” I growled. “Just make it something she would like. Something nice.”
Maisie laughed at me. Again. “Sure. You want to give it to her yourself?”
“No,” I growled.
“Yeah, I think you should too. I’ll have it sent to you at Midnight Mass.”
I could have argued with her, but I was too fucking tired and not in the mood. “Thank you.”
“No problem, brother. None at all.” There was laughter in her voice as she ended the call.
That was my final fucking task for the night before I headed home. I washed down a sleeping pill with a glass of whiskey and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Nothing tasted better after a solid night of sleep and a few glasses of Velvet Fire than buttery toast and scrambled eggs with pepper. A lot of fucking pepper. It was the perfect cure to keep the hangover at bay because I had too much shit to do to deal with a fucking hangover.