Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
How badly was this going to change us?
=♥=
Slade
Friday
I pounded the pavement from my car to the front doors of my LA home, refusing to lessen my stride as I pushed through the door and tossed my keys on the entry table. At some point, someone on staff would move my flashy sports car to the garage and have it back out front for me in the morning. Those parts of my life worked seamlessly. Too bad the rest didn’t operate with the same precision.
I padded through the foyer into my formal living room where I kept the best vodka. Screw the glass, I lifted the bottle and drank two long gulps until the burn got the best of me. I slammed the bottle back on the counter and bent over, willing myself to keep the liquor down as I recalled the food I’d eaten that day.
I couldn’t remember eating so I went for the kitchen for a piece of toast or crackers to help absorb all the alcohol I intended to drink that night.
“Mr. Slade, you’re home early,” my housekeeper said, getting to her feet from the floor she insisted needed to be properly scrubbed every day.
“Yeah,” I said and disappeared into my super tidy pantry. More than anything, I wanted to take my hand and swipe it over the orderly rows. I was tired of everything bein’ exactly perfect for me. I wasn’t. I was a deeply flawed man.
“You’ll mess up your dinner,” she said as I left the pantry with a box of crackers. It didn’t matter what kind. They were carbs, something I never ate, but I would that day. I scooted past her, heading for my bedroom.
“I’ll find something to eat later. Take the rest of the day off,” I said, not sure of the time of day, or if she left for the day, or if she lived here full-time.
Who had the bandwidth to remember those things.
Fired.
The word alone weighed like a boulder on my shoulders. I hadn’t expected Titan’s Fall to dump me. I imagined we’d find a way to allow me to finish the season, possibly part-time, but instead, they took my fucking out clause, paid me the money owed, and sent me on my way. Now, they could claim they hadn’t fired me, which was technically true, but the effect was the same.
All I had managed was to talk my way into letting me drop the news on social media first. Tommy was working on that post right now.
Fired. That word wouldn’t get out of my head.
I dug into the box, pulling out several small crackers and shoving them into my mouth. My saliva instantly vanished. As I chewed the awful tasting treat, I checked the box. Yep, exactly as I suspected, they were healthy, vitamin-laced cardboard.
I dragged my cell phone from my front pocket. If I was going to wreck the formula my body operated on, I wanted it to be a deep-dish, heavy-meat-and-cheese pizza. Toss in a pure sugar soda to top it off.
Except, I had no idea where to order from. I sat on the edge of a side chair, dropping crookedly down until the seat cushion absorbed my full weight. It was a damned nice chair. One I didn’t remember ever sitting in before.
The phone’s screen taunted me. Mace was my screen saver. I’d added him there that morning. If the world knew who I loved, I was ready to be proud of the love I’d found. Except, I wasn’t. My heart hurt for the pain Mace had to be under. I was ultimately responsible for his hurt.
Doubt was destroying me, but I couldn’t let it go.
Should I have paid the blackmailer’s fees?
Probably.
With a sigh, my back hit the chair cushions as my shoulders slumped. I was embarrassed. What a huge ego I had developed. When push came to shove, I’d blown it. Without question, I knew Steve was behind my termination. He was a vindictive, underhanded son of a bitch. Could I prove it? Probably not.
Money was going to matter. I’d have to sell some of my assets. The NYC penthouse had to go. I’d use the cash from the sale to dump into an account for Mace and the sanctuary. From there, I wasn’t sure what else to do. A life in Texas… Mace was a private guy. He wouldn’t do well under all this scrutiny. His brave face attitude with me wasn’t going to last. And like every other time I’d considered Mace in the last twenty hours, tears built in my eyes.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I opened the screen to see many new incoming text messages. The only ones that mattered to me were the ones Mace sent. He’d always been hesitant to text me, but that worry had apparently faded. I had thirteen new messages.