Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“You idiot.” Sinclair sighs. “You break up with a princess for a no-name who hates money and wants time. How is this ever going to fucking work?”
“It won’t.” I shrug. “I already know that.” I glance over at my green friend. “Someone hurry up and throw him overboard.”
“Where is she from?”
“Not far.”
“So have you gone out with her…. Or?”
“What’s with the twenty questions?” I chew my food.
“This is just unlike you to be secretive.”
“Because I don’t want to talk about it. Next subject.”
ALORA
Ring, ring…. Ring, ring.
Mr. Doe.
“Oh my god, he’s calling me.” I scramble to answer my phone. “Hello.”
“Good evening, Miss Sorenson,” his voice purrs.
The sound of his deep, velvety voice gives me butterflies. “Hi.” I swoon.
You already said that.
I screw up my face, for once in your life just act cool.
“I called to see if you got home from Paris safely.”
“I did. Thank you.” I glance at the clock, 8:12 p.m. “Where are you?”
“In bed.”
I get a vision of him all naked and sleepy, wrapped up in blankets.
“Already?”
“I had hardly any sleep last night, I’m exhausted.”
Oh…I wonder did he see Hermione again after he called me, or…?
“Can you do something for me?” he asks.
I smile as excitement runs through me, is he going to ask me out on a date? “Sure.”
“Check your handbag.”
“What?” I frown, not at all what I expected the favor to be. My excitement dissipates.
“I want you to check your handbag.”
“For what?”
“I think Pascal has planted a tracker in your purse.”
“What?” I screw up my face. “No he hasn’t.”
“How did he know where you were last night?”
“It was a coincidence.”
“No. It wasn’t. In the entire city of Paris, he ran into you yesterday and then stayed at the exact same hotel and then crashed you at dinner last night.”
Hmm, come to think of it, that is a little weird.
“Humor me,” he says. “Put me on FaceTime and let’s go through your purse.”
I have a green mask on my face and a treatment in my hair, I look like a greasy alien. “No, I will just look while I talk to you.” I put my phone on speaker and get up and retrieve my purse. “I’m telling you, there is no tracker in my purse. He’s not like that.” I begin to look through it. “What am I even looking for?”
“An AirTag or something that isn’t yours.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, something that’s different. Not yours.”
“Nope.” I dig to the bottom. “Nothing here.”
“Take the items out one by one and then feel in the lining.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Just. Do. It.”
I begin to take things out one by one.
So much for calling to romance me.
“What’s in there,” he asks.
“A purse. Makeup bag. Lipstick. Hairbrush.” I keep taking things out and I pull out a pen. It’s black with the name of a restaurant on it. “A pen.” I stare at it for a moment. “I’ve never been to this restaurant.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a pen, but I don’t know where it came from.”
“Unscrew it.”
“What?”
“Unscrew the fucking pen.”
“Don’t swear at me.” I begin to get annoyed. “It’s 8 on a Sunday night and I feel like I’m in the principal’s office.”
He exhales as if I’m annoying him too. “Just do it.”
I unscrew the pen and it pops apart. “It’s popped apart.”
“And?”
I go through all the bits, the usual ink cartridge and spring then there’s a little black cylinder attached to the barrel of ink, I hold it up and look at it suspiciously. “That’s weird.”
“What?”
“Theres a black cylinder attached to the barrel of ink.”
“That’s it.”
“What?” My eyes widen.
“Philippe will be over to collect it soon.”
“Oh.”
Why don’t you come and get it?
“I….”
Don’t ask him to come over, play it cool.
“Okay.”
“He’s leaving now.”
“My address is—”
“I know your address.” He cuts me off.
“So you’re a stalker too?”
“Only in my spare time,” he replies, and I can tell he’s smiling.
“I’ll wait for Philippe.”
“Good night, Doe.”
Wait, that’s it?
“Umm….” I think for a moment, waiting for him to say something more.
He doesn’t.
“Good night, Edward.” The phone clicks as he hangs up. I sit for a moment and stare at my phone, that was the weirdest phone call of all time. He calls me to talk to me, but then he doesn’t even talk to me.
How odd.
EDWARD
The sun is just going down, my elbow is resting on the car door as I watch the building. People are leaving and the street is winding down for the day.
“Come the fuck on, you idiot.” I sigh. “I don’t have all day.”
He appears through the rotating glass door and my phone beeps with a text from the car behind.
Philippe
Go time
I get out and cross the street, I follow him around the corner and up to his car in the parking lot, my men trail behind at a safe distance.
He turns and sees me and his eyes widen. “Prescott. What are you doing here?”