Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I’d been with her most of that time.
But my own internal clock insisted on getting up around five. When I would usually head off to the gym.
Instead, I slipped out of bed to shower and make coffee.
As I walked back into the bedroom with two mugs, I froze.
And it came rushing back again with painful clarity.
She was lying to me.
The morning light spilled over her naked body, making need stir again. Until my gaze went to her hair.
It had never been a trick of light.
Her hair was blue.
It had been dark the night before, and whatever temporary dye she used was still there in part, but in the harsh morning sun, the strands were more blue than brown.
My hands tightened on the mug handles, a strange churning sensation moving through my stomach.
I despised being lied to professionally.
But things with Saff had never been strictly professional.
Being lied to personally was a whole different kind of terrain. And I didn’t have the right boots, compass, or skills to navigate it.
I did know one thing, though.
Saff was not going to let me grill her for more information. Not if I wanted to be able to have her in my life.
And, after last night, there was no denying that I did.
Almost desperately.
Not wanting to wake her, I set the mug on the nightstand beside her, then made my way back downstairs, where my phone was ringing on the kitchen counter where I left it.
Teresa. Of course. Who else would it be?
“Hey, T. What’s up?”
“What’s up? I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“This is Manhattan. We don’t have ditches,” I said, smiling.
“Fell in an open manhole cover. Pushed onto the tracks. Shanked and left for dead in Central Park.”
“Little dark there,” I said, letting out a huff of a laugh.
“My point is. I’m here. You’re not. What’s up with that?”
“I slept in.”
“You… you slept in?” she asked, astonishment clear in her voice. Then, “Oooh, you slept in. Well, good for you. A man shouldn’t spend all his nights alone. It’s not natural. So, who is it?”
“T…”
“Oh,” she said, tone suddenly more clipped. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
“Dunno who you’re talking about.” I poured myself another cup of coffee, wondering why Teresa would be so cold about Saff all of a sudden.
“Sure you don’t. Look, I’m gonna say my piece then move on. That girl’s trouble. I think you need to be careful. And that’s all I’m gonna say about it.” I could practically see her throwing up her hands as she said it.
“Heard,” I said, hearing footsteps upstairs.
Saff was up.
And, knowing her, ready to run.
Hell, bolt. Especially after finding out she’d spent the whole night.
“I’ll be at the office in an hour or so.”
I hung up just as Saff was running down the stairs. Fully dressed, save for the bra that was still half-hidden under the couch.
She didn’t even try to go find it as she rushed through the living area, pulling to an abrupt stop when she spotted me.
“Oh.” She looked disappointed, likely thinking I’d already headed to the office, so she could sneak out without a confrontation. “Morning,” she mumbled, dropping her mug on the island as far away from me as possible, then rushing toward the elevator without another word.
Maybe I was supposed to call her back, to follow her out.
I got the feeling, though, that Saff was a bit like a feral dog. Not unlovable, just skittish, distrustful. And someone had made her that way.
So maybe the best way to handle her was to keep offering affection. Until, slowly, little by little, she came to seek it out herself.
She rushed inside the elevator, keeping her head down. But she couldn’t leave without one more look. As the doors slid closed, her gaze lifted, found mine, held.
Then she was gone.
I stood there for a long moment, my mind reeling.
Then I reached for my phone, shooting off a text to Teresa.
Change of plans. Not coming in today.
By the time I finished washing out our mugs, my phone was dinging.
Just remember: condoms are cheaper than child support and antibiotics.
I laughed before making my way back upstairs, changing out of my suit and into a pair of sports pants and a t-shirt, wanting to be able to blend in.
Because I was heading my ass out to Brooklyn again.
Not to check on the club.
To see what, if anything, I could find out about Saff.
I might not know a whole lot about her—yet—but I did know where she liked to get her coffee. And that she had a pretty heavy reading habit.
There had to be people in the local coffee shop or bookstore that could tell me something about her.
With that in mind, I called Calvin, then caught up on some work emails on the ride toward Saff’s neck of the woods.
“If you could,” I said as I climbed out of the car an hour later, “don’t park anywhere near the club.”