Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“Who’s the opportunist now?” I walk out, trying to avoid his assistant, who probably heard everything. Pushing through the exit, I hurry to punch the button for the elevator, hoping I can escape with fewer wounds this time. When I reach street level, I look both ways and then back into the lobby. The tiniest part of me wishes he would come running after me. The fairy-tale ending is always just out of reach, it seems.
Almost a month later . . .
I’m greeted by a brown bag with striped ribbon handles sitting on the kitchen counter when I arrive home. I open the tag to discover my name written in calligraphy. I have no idea what this is, but I’m a sucker for a surprise.
With the bag in hand, I retreat to my bedroom. Dropping off my schoolbag, I sit at my desk to open the gift. I pull the tissue and peek inside, grinning the moment I see it, though I should probably temper any excitement. Warner and I let things lie between us, so I find it a bit odd for him to send me a gift, though I’m grateful for the thoughtfulness. He was listening while I was busy condemning him for being happier without me.
“Did you hear?”
“Jesus,” I screech, slamming my hand to my chest. “Stop doing that, Lorenzo.”
“Did you hear?” He’s laughing as he flops onto my bed. He knows I can’t stand him being on my bed, but he’s got my attention on the other matter at hand.
“Hear what?” I hate being out of the loop.
“The building was sold—”
“Yeah. I already knew that.” Why in the good Lord’s heaven is he so excited about that? Yay, we’re losing our home and family restaurant, I deadpan to myself. “Why are you so happy?”
“What do you mean? I thought you heard?”
“I did.” Straight from the traitor’s mouth . . .
He sits up. “What’s not to be happy about the tenants being allowed to stay?”
I pull the bottle of soap out of the bag with the receipt floating to rest on my desk, but then stop. “Wait, what? What do you mean?”
Getting up like he has somewhere more important to be, he heads for the door. “It means the buyer didn’t evict us. We get to stay.”
“Who’s the buyer?”
He’s already in the hall when he replies, “Your guy on the inside. Landers Ventures.”
“Warner.” Why wouldn’t he tell me? I look at the soap again—obviously a gift from him—and then at the paper that fell out with it. I unfold it, realizing it’s not a receipt. It’s an invitation.
CHAPTER 31
Warner
“Yes?” When the door opens, I glance away from the monitor to see Jocelyn peeking in before I return to the email that I’m crafting.
She says, “There’s a Mrs. Bayetti here to see you.” My fingers freeze on the keyboard. My heart might have stopped in my chest as well. I know my breathing has. She smiles and says, “Mrs. Bayetti.”
“Mrs.?”
She nods, her smile too big to show any restraint. “Should I send her in?” She lowers her voice. “She brought cookies.”
“In that case, send her in.” I’m only half joking since I’ve tasted those cookies before. They’re incredible, like her daughter, but that’s not something I can allow my mind or heart to delve into. I stand when I see her enter my office. “I wasn’t expecting you, Pamela.”
“Mom, remember?”
I grin. “I thought that option left with your daughter.” Not really funny, but if I don’t keep it light, I’ll descend into a place I’d rather steer clear of. It took a lot of time alone to realize that the best is ahead and not to dwell on what could have been in the past.
She shoos away the very thought while making a beeline for me with a plastic container held in front of her. “I brought these for you.”
“Double chocolate?” Please say double chocolate.
“The one and only.” She sits in front of my desk, plopping her leather bag in her lap as Jocelyn closes the door to give us privacy. Pamela glances out the windows and says, “Nice office, kid.”
I laugh, setting the container on the desk and sitting in my chair. With my arms resting on a small stack of files, I slide forward. “Thanks. So,” I reply, “what brings you by?”
“You do. My daughter does.” Sitting back, she has no issue taking on the task that is apparently on her agenda today: me. “What’s going on with you two?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Lowering her chin, she looks up as if she sees right through my act. “Listen, Warner, you care about her. I knew that the moment we met. Anyone could see that, but what I know doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know you care about her. So why are you stirring up trouble where there is none?”