Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Ah, not mine,” Luce adds from behind her mug.
I point to her and sip my latte. “Not hers.”
Jord's brown eyes narrow.
“Courtesy of the best friend who, by the way, is apparently living with us for a year.”
Lucinda chokes on her coffee. “What!”
I shrug, stirring my latte before sucking the foam from the spoon. “Nothing I can't handle.”
“Have you told Nonna?” Jord's tone sobers, his eyes glassing over. “This is kind of a spin on the usual.”
My latte burns its way down my throat. “No. I'll message her today. Her signal has been choppy, so maybe she's on a job.”
They both fall silent.
“Maybe,” Lucinda whispers. “Or she’s finally found a new man. She deserves it.”
The entrance chimes and in a flurry of blue hair, Punk rushes toward us, laptop in hand. “Is there a reason we're doing this here instead of at the house?” She plops down at the end of the table, away from prying eyes, and flips open her computer.
Her fingers fly across the keyboard before she turns the screen to me. “Asher Jameson, grandson of Wickham Jameson.”
I snap my fingers. “I know that name.” Wickham Jameson was a fossil with a fortune. His name was stamped on prestigious hotels everywhere. We'd battled on the Forbes list before I finally surpassed him by a few hundred million last year. I wonder who was set to inherit the empire when he finally shriveled up and died.
Punk continues, “He's also a professional snowboarder and every girl’s current obsession. Can't escape the paparazzi even if he tried. How the fuck is someone like Parker friends with someone like this?”
I snatch her laptop and read over the words as they argue back and forth. If Jord wasn’t right before about this putting a spin on things, he definitely is now.
“I don't know,” I answer Punk through a whisper, my throat tightening around the words. Shit. This might be a problem.
As if plucking the words from my brain, Lucinda turns to Punk. “Is this going to be an issue for us?”
Punk sighs, as if she’d run through every scenario on the way here. “It's risky. He poses a threat to all of us, not just Ivanya, but I can keep it under control. All I need to do, is ensure I remain two steps ahead.” She shuts the laptop and slides it back to her side.
I nod, pushing away my latte. There was no way I'd let this get derailed by an inconvenience like Asher and his harem of fans. It's annoying, but nothing Punk can't manage.
Twenty minutes later, I step out of the coffee shop and find my driver waiting exactly where Punk said he'd be. Daniel stands near the curb, his suit perfectly tailored.
He nods toward the idling car. “Parker agreed to hire me as your driver, Mrs. Lee.”
I bite back a laugh, slipping into the privacy of the town car. It’s not until his door clicks shut that my eyes land on his reflection in the rearview mirror. “I'm so glad to have you back, Daniel. Now I can give the boy back his car.”
He inclines his head, pulling us into traffic. “I hear you've met Asher Jameson.”
“I have.” I reach into the console for a bottle of water. “Anything you can tell me?”
“Nothing you don't already know or can't find on the internet, and from what I know, you won’t have any trouble in that department.”
A notification pings on my phone. I swipe it open to a new text.
This one might be a long one. Stay focused, My Mariee… it's everything you've worked for.
I lean my head against the cool glass and watch the trees blur past. A part of me hoped this time would be different, that for once, the Gods might be in my favor. I should know better by now. They never side with one of us.
Chapter 3
Ivy
Ishove through the patio doors. With his hood up and jeans riding low, Asher kills the garage light and suddenly looks twenty-four instead of immortal.
“Enjoy the spin?”
I toss the keys to him. “Sleeping out there tonight?”
He glances back to the garage before the weight of his arm slips around my back. “You wish. That'd let you off way too easy.”
I duck out from under his arm as we cross the threshold, his fingers scorching a trail along my skin. Why is he hellbent on making me uncomfortable?
He blocks the doorway before we head back through the house, his presence alone anchoring me in place. “Stop thinking about it, Ivy. It's a fucking car. I have fifty.”
“You have fifty?” My brow arches. “I'm trying really hard not to judge you right now, but you're making it difficult.”
His laugh vibrates down my spine as I pass.
“Judge all you want. You and I are still going to be great friends.” He says it like a verdict, leaving no room for argument.