Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
It’s Gio Hamper, Dex’s partner at the fight club, and a former UFC superstar. He’s known for being ruthless in a fight and even more ruthless in real life. Rumor has it his last girlfriend called the cops on him after he put her in the hospital, but assault charges were never filed.
Seems he might have a “get out of trouble with the NOPD Scot-Free” card, too.
Just like Dex.
My pulse picks up as I scan the crowd again, wondering if the man who wrecked my car and my life is here, too. I don’t see him, but the damage is already done.
I was right.
Dean’s world does overlap with Dex’s, at least a little.
It’s going to make moving forward trickier, and it’s already tricky enough. Plato and his father are still sorting out how deep the corruption goes. They aren’t sure how high up the ranks we’ll have to appeal to have a shot at seeing justice served, and that’s more than discouraging.
It’s scary.
What if all the cops are in on it?
What if I make an entire police force of new enemies when I come forward? What if I do more than put Dean in an awkward social position? What if I put him and the girls in actual danger?
I shiver and hurry to the elevator bank, suddenly colder than I felt out on the roof. I’m still shaking when I get to the lobby, but thankfully, Dean must have been waylaid somewhere, saying his goodbyes. It takes him another ten minutes to join me, and by then, I’ve pushed the fear and worry away.
I’m not going to let the looming specter of Dex ruin this amazing night. I’m going to keep having the best Mardi Gras ever with my new boyfriend and leave this trouble for another day.
It’s kept this long.
It can wait a little longer.
I’ll find the right time to tell Dean.
Maybe even tomorrow morning, before we head over to pick up the girls from Maybelline’s.
But in the morning, Dean wakes me with his mouth on the back of my neck and his hand squeezing my hip under the sheet.
I roll toward him, covering his nose and mouth with my hand as I whisper, “Hold that thought. Going to go brush my teeth.”
“Me too, meet you back here in five,” he says, voice muffled by my fingers.
We tumble out of opposite sides of the bed, grinning as we dash into his en suite bath to grab our toothbrushes from beside “our” sinks.
There are two sinks in here. “Mine” is the one on the right. Dean had it waiting for me last night, freshly cleaned and accompanied by violet hand soap, washcloths, a tube of face wash, a fresh toothbrush and toothpaste, and a few other random toiletries he thought I might need.
It was the most romantic thing a man has ever done for me. Even more romantic than letting me live in his studio apartment for free until I decide if I want to move out. Any rich guy can let a girl hole up in his extra real estate; it’s a special rich guy who thinks ahead, plans ahead, and provides for your toiletry needs.
Dean’s the best, and we’re having such a perfect first morning alone together that I can’t bring myself to mention my investigation with Plato. Or the fact that the business partner of the man who nearly killed me and Beatrice was at Capo’s party last night.
It can wait. We have time.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
We have time.
And we do, just maybe not as much as I think…
Twenty-One
DEAN
Five Days Later…
Bella has flour in her eyelashes, on her chin, and up both nostrils.
I don’t know how she managed it—she’s not even on crust duty; I put her on chopping veggies with her safety knife for a reason—but she’s having so much fun, I can’t bring myself to ask her which pizza she stuck her face into. Any germs should be baked away in the oven, I guess, and mine and Clover’s pies are guaranteed to be sanitary.
Besides, the fun is the most important part of family pizza night.
Family pizza night…
We never had pizza night when their mom and I were together—the girls were both still too young—and Clover is just our friend, but she feels like family. Hell, it feels like she’s always been here with us. I honestly have a hard time remembering what we were like before.
Probably because I don’t want to remember.
I want to pretend that we’re already a done deal, which is stupid, but I can’t help it. It’s impossible to keep my guard up when everything feels so right. Ava and Bella at the table, laughing as they make a huge mess, the jazz in the background, the silly, easy conversation about the latest drama at preschool—it’s like something from a sitcom.