Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
And God, I hope Soren isn’t right about this.
EIGHT
SOREN
She’s pissed at me, and rightfully so.
I did take her in hopes Miranda would finally get the hint, and maybe to humiliate her and to get her off my back. But as she fumbles with her front door, I feel a twinge of guilt I don’t particularly want to acknowledge. I wait, watching, until she finally gets it open and disappears inside, slamming it hard enough to make her point clear. Yeah, she is pissed, and she has every right to be.
I exhale, alert the driver that he can go, and pull out my phone. A quick tap, and the listening device I slipped into her purse hours ago comes to life.
“What a fucking prick. Who does he think he is?” I hear her muttering. “Thinking he knows that my ex is engaged. He has no idea.”
There’s the sound of a keyboard clicking before the room goes silent.
I know for a fact that Noah is engaged. I know his fiancée. And now I guess I know his ex.
The car is pulling up at my condo when I hear her growl, “No fucking way.” And I know she has found what she was looking for. She’s an expert at research, so I’m amazed she didn’t know already.
Taylor, Noah’s fiancée, actually works for me. I’ve had a few interactions with her before, but I didn’t put the two together until I did some digging and found out that Taylor is with Miss Knight’s ex. It also came to my attention that the engagement is not public knowledge. When I asked Taylor about it, she said Noah has a child to consider, which basically means the father doesn’t want the ex to know. So, I took a stab in the dark that Cressida didn’t know, and I guess I was right.
I continue listening to her as I get out of the car. Something about her voice is soothing in a way, especially when she’s telling me off. I don’t have many people in my life who are ballsy enough to treat me that way.
“I hate him,” she says, and I hear the laptop slam closed.
I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s talking about me.
Pulling the listening device out of my ear, I step into the elevator and push the button for the top floor. The ride is smooth, quiet, and just how I like it. When the doors slide open, I’m met with the familiar sight of my condo—a space as controlled and precise as I am.
The open floor plan stretches wide, anchored by floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase a million-dollar view of the city. At night, the skyline glows as if it’s on fire, with buildings and headlights blending into one another in a wash of gold and white. My living area is minimalist but not cold. There are two large gray sofas facing each other, cream-colored throw pillows positioned just so, a hand-carved wooden coffee table between them, and a textured rug that softens the space without adding clutter.
Everything has its place here. No mess. No chaos. Just order, and exactly the way I need it.
Unlike my previous apartments, I love it here. The views are spectacular, and it’s close to work. But it does get lonely at times, not that I would ever admit that to anyone.
I stand there, looking out over the city lights below, the world spread out beneath me as if it belongs to me. Yet all I can think about is a blue-eyed, sharp-tongued stalker who’s somehow managed to get under my skin.
NINE
CRESSIDA
Last week, I sent Soren an email asking when we could conduct the interview. He opened the email—I know that for a fact because I have read receipts turned on in my emails. But he has obviously chosen not to reply.
I saw Noah earlier this week when he brought Oliver back, and the urge to ask him about his engagement and why he didn’t tell me about it was hard to beat down. And finding out that Soren had told me the truth was a bitter pill to swallow, especially when I knew he only shared that bit of information with me out of malice. Because that’s the type of asshole he truly is.
Oliver and I are waiting outside for Noah to arrive. He’s running late to pick Oliver up for a trip to visit his family. Part of me wants to ask him if she will be attending, but I’m not even supposed to know about her, and how serious they are. While we have a great co-parenting relationship, I think we need to improve how we share information about who is in our son’s life.
“You excited to see Nana and Grandad?” I ask Oliver. He loves Noah’s family, and I don’t blame him, because they are incredible people. I loved being part of their family, and I’m glad Oliver has that support system since all my family lives out of state.