Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“Yes. She committed a crime and then admitted to it. Charges will be brought against her.”
A cool, calculating calm spreads through my veins. Fuck this guy. Is he really trying to make an enemy of me? What is this? Him having some fun at our expense?
“But you got it back,” I say, doing everything I can not to be baited by his purposeful antagonizing. For all I know, he’s lying, and he’s just trying to get a rise out of me because… Because why?
“Yes,” he answers. “Any crimes you want to admit to?” Ah, because he’s clearly trying to pin me with something. So he’s investigating a crime that I was unlucky enough to be standing in the same room with the victim for, but he can’t pin me for anything, and he knows it, so why is he even wasting his resources? Why is he suddenly fixated on me when there were literally hundreds in attendance? The death happened after arresting me. I was literally with him. Surely, he’s not that hung up that I left him alone in his bed four years ago.
Then again, men can be petty once their fragile egos are broken.
I continue to ignore him as I flip to the next page in my book. I can feel his intensity as he watches me, and it fucking bothers me more than it should. He reaches out a hand, and I watch as he picks up the fork, begins digging into my leftover pancakes, and takes a giant bite.
I close my book, my calm facade finally snapping. “Are you lost? Do they not give you enough work at the station that you have to resort to harassing civilians?”
“Nope. Not lost,” he says, taking another bite. “I have plenty of work to do, but I always make time for things I prioritize. These are good pancakes; I can see why you come here often.”
My gaze narrows. How does he know I come here often? He smirks, and it’s answer enough that he’s clearly been following me. It makes my skin crawl. The waitress is looking over at us curiously. I usually don’t come here with anyone, and now I’m forced to sit in uncomfortable silence as he finishes my breakfast.
I’m not going to ask why I’m a priority when I think that’s what he’s hoping I’ll bite at. The more I jump into his provocations, the more he’s winning.
He smiles once he’s done. It’s a blinding, arrogant smirk that I’m sure makes him a lady killer.
Unfortunately, his charm doesn’t work on me. It might’ve once when I was looking for someone to lose my virginity to since I was absolutely forbidden by Aunt Anya to auction my virginity to the highest bidder in one of Dutton Taylor’s virginity auctions. And this guy was easy on the eyes and easy for the taking. Turns out it’s come back to haunt me four years later.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Hope. Thanks for the date,” he says, throwing a twenty on the table and then striding out without another word. My gaze practically bores a hole in his back as he leaves.
Fuck this. And fuck him.
What does he think he’s doing, tormenting me? It’s definitely making me uneasy, having him show up all the time. The fact that he’s very good-looking is beside the point.
Grabbing my bag with clear determination, I call my driver to take me to my cousin’s house. I know I’ll find at least one of them at this time of day, and if fate smiles down on me, they’ll both be there. Because I have a problem I think only they can assist me with—without my father finding out, of course.
Braxton Hero sniffing closely is a liability around my family. There are literally a million things they could pin on any of my family members, except my mother, of course, and I refuse to be the reason why my family name is receiving unwanted attention. I can handle this myself. I don’t want my father to think I need to run to him for help on something I’ve managed to get myself into, especially after pleading my independence for so many years.
I knock on the door several times. As I’m waiting, I notice a letter on the front porch, and I pick it up. It’s my cousin, Ford, who answers the door. I hand him the envelope as I push past him. The moment I get a whiff of bacon, I know Hawke is here too. It’s Ford’s house, but Hawke can’t often go even a few days without his twin.
The two of them work for the Italian mafia boss, Eli Monti, and were personally trained by my Aunt Anya, who is as ruthless as they come. If anyone can help me with this request, it’s them.