Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Stop it.”
“I’m serious. My wrist hurts, and my dick isn’t much better. I beat the hell out of that poor bastard to thoughts of having you for dinner.”
“Did you, now?” Her right brow arches, and she gives me the first smile in weeks.
“Every fucking day, night, and every chance I get.” I unzip my coat, sliding it off and holding onto it.
“Why didn’t you try to talk to me since that night? It was nearly two weeks ago.” If she only knew how painful it had been to avoid dialing her number or shooting her an email.
“Because I didn’t want to ruin things for Franco. My brother’s suffered long enough.”
“Oh.”
“Now, if you’ll show me where the mop is, I’ll clean up the puddles I’ve made around your home.”
“Just take off your shoes and I’ll clean up this mess.” She takes my coat from me and hangs it on the coatrack near the door that has a mat to catch the melting snow. It’s the first time I take in her home. It’s small, but neat except a small section near the sofa which looks like it’s Anabelle’s workstation. She needs her own office, and one day I’ll give it all to her.
Chapter Five
Anabelle
He hasn’t tried to kiss me again, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. My heart wants to believe he’s telling me the truth, but I have so many online images in my head. Granted, the biggest one had been a lie. I want to choke that woman myself.
I call Isabelle to make sure that she’s okay, and when I finally feel satisfied that she’s good, we say goodbye. I leave out that our boss is sitting on our sofa, staring at me because I don’t want to answer questions I can’t possibly answer.
“Tell me about you, Fabio. The real you.”
“Not many people know the real me. I’d say Franco knows me the best, but in reality, there’s not much to say. I work a lot. About eighty hours a week between all the three restaurants. About twice a month, I join my guests of honor, or celebs as you’d refer to them. It’s a press thing I learned a long time ago. Food can be made great by many people but without those to taste it, it’s pretty hard to get people into your restaurant. Once, I had that famous actor from The Nature Games. He came in and posted about my food on Twitter, and it kicked off my business from there. My first restaurant had been in Rochester, and since he’d been from Canada, he’d stopped while on Lake Ontario. After that, I built a restaurant in New York City with Franco’s help. He leased a property to me, and it’s been a hit.”
“Wow. You and your brother are close. I hope that he recovers emotionally.”
“With your sister at his side, I can’t see how he couldn’t. What about you?”
“Me? What about me?”
“Tell me about you? Why are you a graphic designer?”
“It came easy to me in school, and I picked it up and ran with it. I’ve been doing it since I turned eighteen. It’s been a slow-going process as I learned the business side of it all. Now, I make a nice living even if it’s nothing compared to what you and your brother make.”
“You should be very proud of yourself. I’ve seen your work and know you’re talented, but I will say that you just need the proper vehicle to drive your business. It’s also a matter of who you know. Maybe once my site launches with your designs, we’ll do some marketing and I can get some coverage for it.”
We sit on the sofa together, talking and talking as the evening sets in. The sun has set, and I’m surprised that I’ve forgotten all about my sister. We briefly spoke a couple of hours ago, but I know she’s getting down and dirty so I’m happy for her.
“I’m going to start dinner,” he says.
“Oh really? There’s not much in the fridge.”
“I’ll make do. You do know I’m a chef.”
“Yes, world renowned, from my online reading.” My stomach burns with all the online images.
He crosses the distance calmly, cupping my face again with his strong hands, which feels so incredible that I want to lean in to his touch but I don’t. “You need to stop with that shit. Most of the shit they post is to get you to read their crap and not real. I get that you still don’t trust me, and I suppose I was foolish to hope that you would, but I’m not giving up.” He runs his hand along my jaw and then steps back. “I told your boyfriend that I wouldn’t.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Dr. Malcolm. I wish I never hired him to help with Isabelle, and then he would have never had a chance to sweep you off your feet.”