Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Leo looks up at me, and I know, I just know, that he’s sensed I’ve put two and two together. Fuck, I need to drop this, act dumb. I smile. “So tell me about your future plans.”
Leo laughs. “I’m sixty-two, Amelia,” he says, his light Italian accent smooth but grainy too. “Still young, yes? Plenty of time to think past today.”
“What you just said, Leo, is literally every adviser’s worst nightmare.”
Leo grins cheekily, taking more pasta. “I feel like I’m about to get a lecture.”
“You are. People think about the future too late. They don’t make provisions for their retirement soon enough. I’m very aware that you don’t count, since you’re richer than God, but still. It’s easier to lose money than it is to make it.”
He chuckles. “Less rich now my ex-wife has . . . how you say? Fleeced me?”
“Yes.” I laugh. “That.” I swirl my fork in my last bit of pasta and pop it in my mouth, gazing at the remaining sauce longingly. If I were at Mum and Dad’s, I would grab some bread and mop up.
“But still richer than God,” Leo quips. “So what’s in your future?” He finishes and wipes his mouth too, and I’m absolutely beside myself with joy when he dips into the breadbasket and plucks out a piece of granary bread, pushing it around his bowl. I follow suit.
“As of this moment, my future is work.”
“No man?”
I blink, taken aback. “No man.” And he’s not attempted to call me or text me. I have no right to be hurt by that. And yet here I am. Hurt. “I’m career focused right now,” I say, finishing my bread and washing it down with some wine.
“Well, I suppose we should exchange emails.” Leo pulls an iPhone out of the inside pocket of his linen jacket. “What’s yours?”
I reel it off and save Leo’s when it lands, and I smile. “Sue mentioned you like high risk.” I snap my mouth shut when Leo’s eyebrows lift sharply. Shit. I cannot believe I said that. “I mean when it comes to investments.”
Leo polishes off half his glass of wine. “Indeed, I do, but Sue told me that you’re the perfect blend of risky and safe.”
“I like to ensure I’m making conscious m—” My words fade, and my smile drops like a rock when I see Jude across the restaurant being shown to a table.
With a woman.
“What the fuck?” I breathe.
“What?” Leo says, craning to look over his shoulder.
“Nothing.”
Jude’s eyes land on me. And then Leo. And the instant rage on him is rampant. Oh shit. But . . . he’s got a fucking nerve. Who the hell is that woman? Busty. Curvy. Platinum-blond hair. A blouse that’s got one too many buttons undone. Jude says something to her, looking this way, and then starts walking through the tables towards us. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Excuse me.” Hopping up, I grab my bag, hoping Jude follows me and doesn’t confront Leo. “I need the ladies’.” I head through the little nook and down a corridor, looking back over my shoulder.
I’m only a bit relieved when I find Jude in pursuit. Rounding a corner, I wait, and the second he appears, I want to weep at how fucking stunning he is in a casual beige suit and open-collar white shirt.
For another woman.
“Who the hell is that woman?”
“What the hell do you care?” he hisses back, leaning down, making a few locks of his hair fall onto his forehead.
“I don’t.”
“Who the hell is that man?”
“What the fucking hell do you care?” I pivot and push my way into the ladies’, slamming the cubicle door behind me. “Fucking man,” I mutter.
“Fucking woman,” I hear Jude grunt.
I swing the door open. “Get out.”
His eyes narrow to angry slits. “I dare you to push me over the fucking edge, Amelia,” he says darkly. “I fucking dare you.”
“You lied to me. You don’t deserve anything from me but a slap.”
“Then slap me.”
“I don’t want to slap you!”
He pounces, getting me up against the tiled wall and attacking my lips like a desperate madman, pushing his tongue into my mouth, the aggression of his kiss forcing my head back against the wall.
My body instantly burns for him, my mind scrambles, my thighs clench. Fuck, no! How does this keep happening? Explosions, sparks, ravenous for each other. It’s unstoppable.
But I must stop it.
“No.” I turn my head, breaking my lips from his, and push him back, passing him. “I’m not doing this again.”
“Are you saying it’s over?”
I stop at the door. Squeeze my eyes closed. I need more than chemistry and explosions. I need trust. Respect. Love. He’s here with another fucking woman the day after we broke up. Again.
“It’s over.” I swing the door open and leave, holding back my tears as I make my way to the table. Keep it together! I need to nail this meeting.