Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Pretty sure that’s the reason Ronan’s chain gate is electric. His whole warehouse is ready to go off the grid at the drop of a dime. He knows what Zero is capable of. He also has Zero to tell him how to protect himself from people, well, like me. It’s rather annoying, if you ask me. I hate when he drops off the map. My father would call it badass, but whatever.
I watch as Ronan gets back into his truck, pulling through the gate before getting out and putting the chain back on before he walks over to a breaker box, kicking on the electric fence.
I cringe thinking about how big of a shock you'd take if you touched the thing. It also has wired curved fencing on top that would shred anyone who tried to climb over. That warehouse is locked up as tight as a fucking prison.
I pull my feet up in my chair, resting my chin on my knee as I keep watching him. I don’t stop, not even when he finally pulls into his warehouse. He keeps the power on the grid and all the cameras online.
Zero had busted me on my light stalking of Ronan and told me to be careful, but he must not have told him, for some reason. It doesn’t make sense to me. The only explanation is that he must still be wrapped up in Cosima. The man has to hate me at this point. It’s not my fault that I’m best friends with his now wife and sister-in-law. When they ask me to do something for them, I do it. It’s girl code.
I mean I can’t say that his dislike for me is unwarranted. One of the asks might have come from Cosima when she and Zero were figuring their crap out. She asked me to get her out of the country and make sure Zero couldn’t contact her. Which I thought I’d done. Boy, was I wrong. The man had been three steps ahead of both of us. I still am in awe of the lengths he went to.
Don’t get me wrong. I found it rather annoying at the time but also a bit sweet how far he had gone to keep Cosima in his sights. If she wasn’t so in love with him and carrying his baby, I might have called him a psycho, but as Zero pointed out, I am no better than him.
Not true. I might not be better in regard to crossing lines about people’s privacy, as in Ronan’s, but clearly I was not better than him at my skills because he’d bested me.
I’ve been fascinated with Ronan from the moment I laid eyes on him. It’s driving me crazy that I don’t know why. When I wake up, he’s the first thing I think about and the last when I go to sleep. Not to mention the dreams. I groan, closing my laptop, not wanting my dirty mind to go there.
This can’t be right. I’ve never talked to the man before! I’ve seen him in person once—well, once that he’s aware of—but I’m starting to get the sense that he might be more conscious of me than I know.
“No.” I shake the thought from my head. There is no way, not to mention he went into a brothel tonight.
This was the first time I’d seen him venture toward other women in a sexual way. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, hating the jealousy I feel. This is why you don’t get tangled up with men. Why can’t I just be asexual? That would make things so much easier. Then I wouldn’t be stalking a man who barely knows I exist.
Even if he did know about me, I’d likely freak him out. I’m strange; I get that. We all have our quirks. I mean, Ronan himself doesn’t have the best reputation. Word on the street—wait, do people still say "word on the street"? Doesn’t matter, well, kind of. I can’t go dropping the word on the street line and adding to my awkward weirdness.
The point is to blend in.
Anyhow, the things I've found on Ronan are scary. At least they should be. People are terrified of him. He's the one who is sent in to extract information out of people. I'd let him extract a few things from me. An orgasm or five comes to mind.
"Oh my God!" I growl at myself, falling back onto my bed.
A knock sounds on my door a moment before it's flung open.
"Jesus, Dad." I sit up. "I could have been naked." The face he makes has me laughing.
"I made dinner, and you're eating." He's always on me about what I'm eating. That food fuels the body, and I can't live off Sour Patch Kids and chips when I do remember to eat. I don't mean to forget; sometimes you just get into the zone. Especially when big, burly men with thick, hairy thighs are the center of your attention.