Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“He didn’t give a crap about anything that went against what he wanted, that’s for sure. He was tough.”
“Yeah. Whatever he thought was best for the folks he cared about.” He sighs fondly. “I’ll always respect that. The man carried his baggage quietly, accepted what he couldn’t fix, and just kept living.”
I wonder at the pride and envy in his voice.
But what is happening?
Are we having a freaking moment? Is Holden Verity showing me empathy?
I fight the urge to give him the biggest hug.
I have to avoid liking the thought of that way too much.
In the end, the urge wins.
Leaning against his arm, I rest my head on his shoulder for a frenzied second. My face feels like it’s melting but I don’t care.
“I’m sorry again. About yesterday. You’re not so bad sometimes,” I whisper. “And I guess it’s not the worst thing in the world to be stuck with you.”
He huffs but doesn’t move away.
“Should I get that in writing? Cleo Blackthorn agrees I wasn’t assigned to piss her off, and she won’t produce another unflattering drawing.”
“Shut up. Let’s enjoy the truce.” I’m laughing, suddenly giddy.
But he goes quiet as his lips turn up.
He lets me enjoy him.
Finally, we find a little unexpected peace in the dark, uneven chasms between our emotions.
By seven o’clock, I’m worried.
Jasper Fairfax still hasn’t called.
All the warm, fuzzy feelings from The Met visit have faded with the sunset, and all that’s left in its place is this waxy anxiety.
Lots of anxiety.
Holden shoulders the door open and steps through, carrying a pizza box and a bottle of wine. “Nile, stop pacing and come eat. You’re making me dizzy.”
“And you just got back and I’m starving.”
My inner hangry ghoul takes over the instant a whiff of good New York pizza hits me in the face.
My eyelids flutter shut in bliss.
While we sat around, waiting for the call, Holden insisted on getting some food in me. At the time, I wasn’t that keen on pizza, but now, I’m ravenous.
“Nothing from Fairfax?”
“Nope.” I grab a couple plates and two glasses from the kitchen.
“Dammit, what’s the holdup? He promised us a call.”
“Do you think it’s a bad sign? Maybe he found out the egg’s a fraud and he’s just figuring out how to let me down easy.” I pour us both wine and accept the enormous pizza slice he plates up. Classic pepperoni. “What if it’s not authentic? Or something’s wrong with its condition? Honestly, I never looked at it that closely. Crap… What if it’s illegal to even sell it? I don’t want to get arrested.”
“Nile, switch off. If he had any concerns about it being stolen, they would’ve been front and center. Eat some pizza.” He pushes my plate into my hands.
Good advice I can’t ignore.
“How are you not freaking out over this?” I ask around a bite.
We sit on the sofa together.
“Why bother? You’re doing plenty of that for both of us.” He shoves the slice into his own mouth and tears off a bite, practically folding the thin slice to down it in a few chomps. And I thought I was starving. “You’ll feel better with a full belly. Trust me.”
“I’ll feel better with more wine,” I mutter.
But I take another bite and moan.
Hello, flavor town.
Yeah, okay, so maybe this pizza will make me feel better after all. That doesn’t mean it’s a magic cure for our problems.
“But what if something did go wrong?” I ask when I’m halfway through a second slice. “There are so many things that could derail, and—”
“Exactly,” he interrupts, polishing off his slice. “A thousand things could misfire, and there’s no point in worrying about them. Do you hear me?”
I blow out a breath. “I do.”
“If anyone ever knew his shit, it’s Leonidas Blackthorn.” Holden presses back into the sofa, grabbing another slice off his plate. “There’s zero chance he left you an underwhelming inheritance. I watched him run circles around the biggest geniuses in real estate more times than I could count. No one ever would’ve pulled one over on the old man.”
Very true.
I love how easy it is for Holden to find the magic words to make me feel better. I don’t understand how he does it so effortlessly.
“What if it wasn’t his fault, though? I’m sure he did some checking, but he never had it looked at or appraised by an expert. Not that we know anyway.”
Holden shrugs. “Then he made an honest mistake. I don’t think he did. He knew what he was doing, and you meant too much for him to risk you running around on anything less than a sure thing. Hell, I’d like to think he wouldn’t send me on a wild goose chase either, but…”
He doesn’t finish that thought.
I smile.
I get up and refill my wineglass.
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or Holden, but my nerves dull, draining from my system.