Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
I hang up, and he immediately tries to call back, but I silence my phone and ignore it.
When I get home, Cristian isn’t there, but Mariella’s waiting for me on my front porch with a bottle of wine.
“Figured you could probably use some company,” she says.
“He asked you to come, didn’t he?”
She gives me a subtle nod. “He doesn’t want you here alone. I don’t either, if I’m being honest. And not because I doubt your capabilities.”
“I know.” I unlock the door and step inside, stopping short at what I see. “Umm…what the hell is that?”
“Our cousin Pepe’s dog.” Mariella laughs.
“Why does he look like the Terminator? And why is he in my living room?”
“He’s a Cane Corso,” she explains. “They’re excellent guard dogs.”
“Are you sure he’s not going to eat me?”
“No. He only eats people when we say the magic word,” Mariella deadpans.
“What’s the magic word?” I side-eye her.
She covers her mouth, leaning in so only I can hear it. “Stavros.”
“Seriously?” My brows shoot up. “Your family really hates the Greeks, don’t they?”
Mariella shrugs and summons the dog. “Goliath, come.”
The beast ambles over, and Mariella introduces us. After some sniffing, he determines I’m not a late-night snack and lies back down on his bed.
“I don’t really know what to do with him,” I admit. “I’ve never had a dog.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Mariella says. “Cristian already fed him, and his men will walk him at allotted times.”
I nod, though I’m not sure about interacting with the guards. But the dog is already here, and admittedly, it makes me feel a little better.
Mariella and I sit and drink some wine, chatting about nothing in particular. Eventually, I start to doze off, but I wake up when I hear the front door opening.
Cristian walks in, and a heavy silence hangs in the air until Mariella finally breaks it.
“I’m going to head out,” she tells me.
“Are you going back to the island?”
“No. I’m staying at the penthouse tonight.”
I’m tempted to tell her I’ll go with her just so I can avoid Cristian, but I don’t.
“I’ll walk you out.”
Cristian doesn’t look happy with that plan. In fact, he seems downright irritated.
At some point during the night, he took off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and loosened his tie. My mind is quick to supply a reason for his appearance, but if this is what he looks like after sex, I can’t imagine it was very good.
“He’s in a mood.” Mariella confirms my thoughts once we’re on the porch. “Him and Angelo have been bickering like crazy.”
“Why?”
“Something to do with a deal they’re working on.” She hitches a shoulder. “They’ve both been on edge, so it must be important, whatever it is.”
I nod, wondering if it has anything to do with Jolie. Then I decide it’s better I don’t know.
“Well, thanks for hanging with me.” I offer her a sleepy smile. “Sorry I wasn’t more lively.”
“No apology necessary. I’ll see you this weekend.”
We say our goodbyes, and I venture back inside the house. Even though I’ve been home for a while, I didn’t have a chance to go through my nightly routine with Mariella here. I’m also more anxious than usual, so it takes me longer to check the door and windows. I feel Cristian’s gaze on me while I do it, but I avoid looking at him altogether.
It isn’t until I’m sealed inside the privacy of my room that it feels like I finally take a breath.
This tension is unbearable, and there’s only one way to get it off my mind.
Saturday can’t come soon enough.
18
CHANTEL
Nervous energy pulses through me when I read Bran’s confirmation that he’ll meet me tonight.
We’ve been texting throughout the week, and it’s been a welcome reprieve from the chaos inside my head. But now…it’s real.
This is going to happen, and it’s what I wanted. Yet for reasons I can’t explain, I still feel tormented by the man currently occupying too much of my space.
We’ve hardly spoken since the night at the club, and logically, I know it’s for the best. But, of course, when the time comes for me to leave and I try to slip out unnoticed, he’s in my living room.
He glances up at me mid-conversation with someone on the phone. His eyes slide over my black bustier-style dress, and his face remains an impenetrable mask. I imagine this is the same expression he wears while poring over spreadsheets in his office.
“Hold on,” he murmurs into the phone as he meets my gaze. “Ready for your hot date?”
The indifference in his voice settles into the hollow of my stomach, but I manage a clipped response.
“Yep.”
An awkward beat of silence passes before he simply nods. “Enjoy your night.”
My stiff legs carry me out the door, and I don’t look back or bother to remind him I won’t be home tonight. Clearly, it makes no difference to him.