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)
“Oh my God,” I say quietly to myself. Rob obviously thinks it’s his wife too. My teeth clench. So she thinks she’s going to chase me out of town? Never, I vow to myself. She’ll have to drag my dead body away.
Now who’s passive-aggressive possessive?
I huff to myself, making my way back to the bar and slipping onto the stool, finishing my drink.
“Another?” Clinton asks.
“Yep.” I slap the bar. “Keep ’em coming.”
“You got it.”
“And pass me some of those olives too.”
Clinton sets a bowl down on a smile and gets to work on my second drink as I pluck an olive out and nibble around the stone. “Pitted or not?” I ask.
“Not,” he calls.
“Me too. They’re firmer when they still have the stone inside. Kind of creamier.” I study the flesh of the green olive. “Black or green?”
“Green.”
“Me too.” I sigh and drop the stone onto the side plate. “I bet you didn’t expect such a riveting bar conversation today, huh?”
Clinton laughs. “I’m a barman. It’s in the job description to help take people’s mind off things.”
I laugh, not in amusement, and help myself to another olive. I’m on my fifth when Jude appears beside me, nodding at my empty as Clinton replaces it with a fresh new drink. “That kind of day?”
I look at him with exasperation. “Had better. What did Rob say?” I ask, making him tilt his head in question. “I saw you out there talking.” It’s not like he was hiding, and there’s a direct view onto the front from here.
Jude glances back over his shoulder, as if reminding himself of that. “I wouldn’t put it past her. But I don’t want you to worry about it.”
“I’m not,” I say with grit, surprising Jude.
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Good.” He reaches for my stool and drags it closer. “Are you done?”
“I’m done.”
“Then let’s talk about something else.”
“Like what?”
“I want to take you away.”
“Okay,” I agree easily, observing his slow, thoughtful nod, watching as he drifts into a daydream. “Are you alright?” Why does he seem vacant all of a sudden?
He visibly shakes himself back into the room, smiling. It’s forced. “Sorry, what did you say?”
I lean back. “I asked if you’re alright.”
“I’m fine.” He stands, collecting my hand, frowning past me. I look back to the woman, Denise. Comprehension seems to have just hit her.
“You’re the guy who owns this wonderful hotel,” she says, excited. “Oh my, it all makes sense now!” She lifts her drink. “The Amelia.”
Jude laughs. “Yes, and just like my girlfriend, it leaves a wicked aftertaste.”
Denise erupts into belly-clenching laughter. “Oh, that’s funny. How romantic. Have you been dating long?”
“Long enough to get a cocktail on the menu in honour of her.” Clinton chuckles, prompting a glare from Jude. “You can’t fire me.”
“Can’t I?” Jude grumbles, taking my cocktail off the bar and dragging me away. “We’re having lunch in the Piano Bar. Put Amelia’s drinks on my tab.”
“Yes, boss.”
“He’s right,” Jude says. “I can’t fire him.”
I laugh. “So, we’re going for a relaxed lunch, are we?” The Piano Bar is cool and laid-back, rather than formal and refined like the Orangery.
“We are.”
“What will you do?” I ask as he guides me across the lobby. “There are no tablecloths to hide your wandering hands.”
He snorts, pulling out a tub chair for me, giving me a wide, full-beam smile. It takes him from handsome to illegal. “Restrain myself.”
Plucking the menu off the table, I lower and browse the options. “Burrata and risotto,” I say decisively, slamming it shut.
“Are you in a rush?”
I cross my legs and relax back, taking in the busy Piano Bar. “I think we could both do with letting off some steam,” I muse. His laugh is sardonic, and I sigh. “What am I going to do about my car?” I pout. “I can’t drive it like that.”
“I’ll get it repaired,” he says, making me feel guilty. The car cost him enough. “Please don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried. I’m annoyed.”
“Don’t be annoyed,” he breathes as he pushes my cocktail towards me.
Is he for real? Don’t be annoyed? Sure. Easy. And rich, coming from him.
“Thanks.” I lose myself in my drink and try to push back my irritation. It’s not Jude’s fault. “What are you having?”
“Prawns,” he answers. “You’ve got your meeting with Spector soon, right?”
“Wednesday.”
“Ready for it?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I sing.
“What’s your strategy?”
“Patience. Listen. Don’t overtalk or overwhelm her with all the reasons why I should be the chosen one.” I smirk around the rim of the glass when Jude chuckles.
“You’ll smash it,” he says, and just that stupid little comment makes my heart swell.
“So where are you taking me away?” I ask.
“Florence?”
I’m interested. And very excited. “Really?”
“That looks like it’s hit the spot.”
“It’s been on my list of places to visit for years.”
“Mine too.” He smiles. “The architecture is mind-blowing. It’s what I did . . . well, before Mum found . . .”