Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
I should have seen this coming. But how? Francesca has been my best assistant in years. We never argue, and I’ve told her plenty of times that I see promise in her. I was planning on promoting her next year.
“Don’t worry, Kathryn,” Blake says, stroking my head gently. “I’ll take care of it.”
My heart jumps. “Take care of it?!” I make a gun with my thumb and forefinger.
Blake roars with laughter and gives me a teasing poke in the side. “Not like that!”
“Okay, phew,” I sigh, feeling silly for even thinking such a thing.
“But trust me, baby. I’ll take care of it. You trust me?”
I look up at him—the sharp lines of his face and his piercing eyes—it all somehow manages to come together with such kindness.
I’m so lucky…
“Yes.” I nod. “I trust you.”
“Good.” He smiles. “I protect what’s mine, baby. And you are mine.”
9
BLAKE
It’s a perfect evening of snow flurries as I make my way up the sidewalk. Big snowflakes float down everywhere, giving the streets the quintessential postcard look people think of when they think of winter in New York.
Kind of ironic that all the Christmas cheer has left me. I’m on a mission tonight. A mission I cannot fail.
I stop in front of a grungy apartment building and check my phone. Yep, this is the one.
Kathryn gave me Francesca’s address. She said she’d be here. Apparently, she’s not that social and has no family.
A light glows from the bedroom on the second story, and I shake my head. Sitting at home after dropping a blackmail note off to your boss? Doesn’t seem like the right move to me.
Someone’s propped the front door open, so I slip inside and take the stairs.
Stay cool…stay cool…I keep telling myself. My blood is boiling, but for my plan to work, I’m going to have to relax.
My pulse beats harder, loud like a drum in my ears, as I approach the door to Francesca’s apartment.
She wants to hurt my queen. She wants to ruin her.
I draw my clenched fist from my pocket, take a breath, and pound hard on the door. “Here we go…”
There’s a soft gasp from inside, followed by the sound of footsteps.
“Yes, hello?” Francesca’s voice calls cautiously from inside. I turn my back so if she looks out the peephole, she won’t see my face.
Here it comes, the gamble that will make this thing work or not.
“I’ve got a delivery here for Francesca Morgan?”
“Oh, you can just leave it there, thanks.”
I smile. Like the rest of us, Fran is waiting on a last-minute Christmas gift to show up in the mail.
“Sorry, but I need a signature.”
She sighs, and I hear the door unlock. “All right, no problem—”
The door swings open, and I turn. She sees me, and her eyes go wide with shock.
She tries to slam the door on me, but I slip through into her apartment before she can.
“Help!” she shouts, screaming like a banshee. “Help me!”
“Fran, relax,” I say, putting some distance between her. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Like hell you’re not!”
She reaches out and snatches something from the counter and points it at me like she might beat me with it if I come any closer. A roll of wrapping paper.
I just look at it, and when she realizes what she’s done, she almost laughs.
“Fran, I know about the photo. The letter you gave Kathryn.”
Her face twists with confusion. “But…how?”
“Your reflection. I saw your reflection in the glass.”
A look of defeat comes over her. She drops the wrapping paper and leans back against a support column, closing her eyes.
“Shit…”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “Kathryn doesn’t know. She’s talking to her accountant right now about the best way to wire the money to your account.”
Her eyes snap open. Suddenly, she’s interested in what I have to say.
“Seriously? Then what are you doing here?”
“Well.” I smile, taking a seat on a stool at the counter. “I wanted to ask you...why did you only ask for five million?”
Fran frowns, then slowly takes a seat beside me. I watch her facial expressions shift. It’s like watching a ticking clock—tiny, incremental movements that move with the passage of time.
“Why did I only ask for five million?” she repeats.
“That’s right.”
“I mean…it seemed like a good number. Five million is a lot of money.”
I nod in agreement. “It is, but Kathryn is worth a lot more. We could definitely get more out of her.”
“We?” Francesca asks, looking more confused than ever.
I’m grinning back at her now, feeling the tension rise as she starts to realize why I’m here.
Her leg is twitching now, her heel thumping on the floor. She’s excited. I can practically see the dollar signs in her eyes.
“As you saw from the photo, Kathryn and I have…a thing going,” I explain.
“Well, duh,” Francesca snorts. “I could tell by the way she was looking at you.”