Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
I was about as fond of Row and Rhyland as I was of ingrown toenails, but Gia cared for their wives, so I guessed I couldn’t add them to my hit list.
“She satisfies all my needs.”
“Is that a declaration of love?” Rhyland retied his man bun.
“Love is a weakness. I do not engage in such foolishness.”
But I didn’t hate her anymore. Not completely, anyway.
She didn’t notify the authorities I murdered Duffy, and I did appreciate the honied nectar of her cunt. She was a mild nuisance now, no longer the bane of my existence.
I checked my phone for messages.
Luca: She is being trailed by Enzo and Filippo. More protected than Fort Knox.
I’d asked if Gia was safe tonight.
Tate: Send three more men to err on the safe side.
Luca: Your wife won’t like that.
Tate: I’d rather have her angry and alive than pacified and dead.
Meanwhile, Row, Rhyland, and Kieran were bickering about football. Or was it soccer? Either way, I’d be bored to tears if my body could produce them.
I allowed my thoughts to drift into more pressing matters. I would eat fish when I returned home. Yes, fish and broccoli. Then I’d do some equations. Count the number of tiles in my bedroom again. Read a few paragraphs in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. That would relieve me of the tension of knowing my wife was out there, prey to Tiernan Callaghan. I didn’t need Dr. Patel, with his intrusive questions and over-the-top diagnosis. I was fucking fine.
See? Fantastic.
My phone pinged in my fist.
I glowered at a notification from my bank. It alerted me via text every time someone made a transaction on my black card for over ten grand.
Garia Desert Collection Golf Cart x 2, $34,598.
I cocked my head sideways. I didn’t remember buying—
Ping.
St. Marton Cay, Private Island, The Exumas, Bahamas, Caribbean, $13,498,229.
My jaw went slack.
Gia bought a fucking private island. On my card. What the hell did she think she’d do with a private isla—
Ping.
No Kill Corp. Animal Shelter. NYC Registered #2233, $329,000.
She was going to make the shelter a rescued animals paradise. I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile. My wife was coming out of her shell. Becoming mischievous and daring. I always knew a great warrior lived behind those demure dresses and perfect curves. I chose well. Someone the complete opposite of Andrin. Who wanted to save animals, not kill them.
Ping.
Kopi Luwak Coffee, 6 lbs., pure, unfiltered, at Café Rem, $14,998.
Ping.
Viking Tuscany Stove. <<
Great choice. I’d wanted one of those for my Mamaroneck summer house.
My chest quaked with stifled laughter as I watched ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment charges gliding down my screen, chasing one another. It wasn’t too long before my phone started ringing in my palm.
Hans.
My private banker at Lombard Group International.
What did she do, attempt to buy the American Museum of Natural History?
I slid my finger over the screen and pressed my phone to my ear. “Yes?”
“Mr. Blackthorn, sir,” Hans greeted in his usual, exaggerated manner. “How do you do?”
“Fine. I’d ask the same of you, but I pay you too much interest to pretend to care.”
“Fair enough.” He forced out a rusty chuckle.
I pressed a finger to my ear. The pub was noisy and full of people.
“It appears someone is currently trying to use your personal Amex…”
“That someone is my wife. What’s the issue?”
“Oh! My warmest congratul—”
“Yeah, yeah, get to the point.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, she’s attempting to purchase a Gulfstream G450.”
“I’ll ask again—what’s the issue?”
Quiet quilted the other line. Either a cat got his tongue, or he was too much of a pussy to say it.
“Spit it out, Hans.”
“She’s added a special charge of an additional one hundred and three thousand…”
“Approve the transaction.”
In this Russian roulette of fucking with each other, I wasn’t going to blink first. I wasn’t going to blink at all. Came with the territory of embracing my own psychosis. She needed to know tiny skirts and giant bills did not sway me one way or the other, even if she didn’t like the necessary extra security on her tonight.
“The surcharge is for a customization, a design.” He cleared his throat.
“Right,” I said slowly. “Why wouldn’t she want a custom design? Do you think my wife should travel in a generic jet? Something bland and boring? Like a peasant?”
I was fucking with him, knowing he’d gladly surrender every hole in his body to me in exchange for managing a portfolio like mine. Usually, I derived endless pleasure from taunting people.
Row, Rhyland, and Kieran slowly spun their heads to stare at me, looking like I just shat in their cereal bowls.
I didn’t usually have a one-track mind, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she bit my finger too hard, threatened me with knives, and tried to elbow me off my own galloping horse.
Her mouth. Her tits. Her cunt. Her ass. Her legs. Her laugh…