Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
He’s so gentle. The way he moves the leaves aside. Some he sprays from a bottle, most he fills with the can, lightly checking the soil with his fingers. He moves from one to the next, taking his time, lavishing each with attention. I never in a million years would’ve guessed Cormac could be so gentle.
Not with his reputation.
Those are fists for breaking things. Cracking teeth. Crushing windpipes.
I picture those hands on me. Touching my skin with the same care and obsession he’s showing his little indoors garden.
Am I seriously jealous of plants right now?
“There’s coffee if you want some.” He doesn’t look at me, still fully concentrating on what he’s doing.
I flinch and feel my cheeks heat up. “Sorry, I didn’t know, I mean—”
“I heard you come down.” He looks over. “You walk like you’re trying to wake the dead.”
“I absolutely do not. I’m graceful.”
“You lumber.”
“I float.”
His lips press together. Is that a little smile? “You’re right. You’re a feather.”
I glare at him, head cocked. “You’ve called me that before. What’s it mean?”
“Nothing important.” He goes back to watering. “I’ve been told I have to drive you to work in an hour.”
That knocks me off balance. I want to press him on the whole feather thing, but the change of subject stops me. “I didn’t know that was happening already.”
“Seems my father and your brother want to get the business rolling.”
“Sounds like Adriano,” I mutter as I head into the kitchen. He’s got a fancy carafe and the coffee smells incredible. I fill a mug and add a little cream, which surprises me. Cormac looks like the kind of guy on a strict no-fat, no-sugar diet. With a body like that, he’s got to be holding out on himself. Maybe I’m wrong though.
“We’ll leave in about forty-five minutes.” He comes into the kitchen, empties the rest of the watering can, and turns it upside down to dry. “What do you need to get ready?”
“Nothing from you. Turns out, I’m capable of dressing myself.”
Another press of the lips. I’m really amusing him today. “I’d be happy to help.”
“I bet you would, sicko.” I turn my back on him so he can’t see how much I’m enjoying this coffee. “But don’t worry about me. I’ll get to work on my own.”
“How well do you know New York?”
Not even slightly. “I’ve got a phone. How hard can it be?”
“You’re not going anywhere alone.”
“And I’d rather not get driven to my job by my husband like I’m some awkward teenager going to her first retail gig.”
“Do teenagers usually get married?”
“You know what I’m saying.”
He comes closer and I stiffen. There’s his smell again. More musk this time from the sweat, but I strangely like it. “I’m driving you, and before you argue, there isn’t another option. You’re my responsibility now.”
“I’m not your new puppy. I can handle myself.”
“Maybe you can, but you don’t have to.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” I say, annoyed, and storm out of there. I feel his eyes as I retreat back upstairs, but I pause in the hallway.
Where am I supposed to go right now? Into the empty room with all my boxes? Back into his bedroom?
Nothing in this place is mine, and Cormac’s already acting like a bossy prick.
I feel overwhelmed and lost for the first time since coming here. I blink away tears, refusing to let myself wallow in self-pity.
This is happening. This is my life now. I can tear out my hair and sob all I want and that won’t change a stinking thing.
I just wish my husband made it easier.
“Have a great day at the office, feather,” he says as he parks outside of a beautiful old Art Deco building. It’s a mid-rise with an ornate facade and lots of people milling around.
“We’re not making this a habit.” I glare at Cormac and push open the door.
“I prefer to think of it as a routine.”
“I’m getting my own car, a subway pass, and maybe even a motorcycle. We’ll see how comfortable I’m feeling.”
His expression darkens. “Over my dead body.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I blow him a sarcastic kiss and slam the door in his face.
I’m not even sure why I’m mad. He was fine on the way over here. Mostly he kept to himself, which suited me. I got to stare out the window and get a feel for my new neighborhood. I’ll explore more on foot soon, but right now, I have to put my game face on.
The lobby has a gorgeous marble floor and the security guard at the front desk seems to have been expecting me. After a short wait, a man I recognize comes striding over from the elevator banks.
“Bianca Marino,” Leo says, grinning boyishly. “Glad you could make it.”
“You’re my liaison?” I stare at him in surprise. He’s part of Luca’s crew running the truck depots, or at least he used to be.