Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Any contact today? I asked mildly.
“No. I haven’t seen him all day.” She took a sip. “Thank God.”
“Good.” I drummed my fingers on the table. “How did you pay for your membership to the online dating app?”
“Oh, I had a month free trial. I had to give a credit card for after it expired.” She shook her head. “Andy said he always canceled and made a new profile before his card was charged. He told me once he didn’t really have to pay for dates.”
I snorted. “And yet there he was—on a dating site. His profile was pretty empty.”
“How do you know that?”
I decided to be honest. “I hacked into their system.”
She gaped at me. “You hacked…” Her voice trailed off. “Isn’t that—” She leaned close with a whisper. “Isn’t that illegal?”
I smirked. “Yes.”
“Yet—” she waved her hand “—you did. And you told me.”
“I need to know what or who I’m dealing with. Who I have to protect you from. I need to know everything I can about him.”
“Maybe you should look at other sites.”
I blinked. “What?”
“He mentioned he’d tried other sites as well.”
I picked up my phone and sent Egan a text. He replied swiftly, telling me he would cast a wider net.
“Who did you just text?” she asked.
“A colleague helping me.”
She sat back, shaking her head. “I feel as if I just stumbled into a spy movie.”
I laughed, waiting until the bowls of thick minestrone soup were placed in front of us, a basket of bread set down, and cheese and pepper added to the soup before the waiter departed.
“Nothing that over the top.”
“But you are, ah, connected.”
I picked up my spoon, dunking it in the fragrant broth. “I am exactly what you need to protect you. To make sure this guy is out of your life for good.”
“And then?” she asked breathlessly.
“Then you have time for me.”
I loved how the color rushed to her cheeks. She picked up her spoon and concentrated on her soup, but I saw the smile that pulled on her lips. We both wanted that time.
“That was incredible,” she murmured, setting down her fork. The meal had been amazing. Soup, salad, pasta, beef medallions in a wine sauce, a decadent cheesecake, even the lattes had been exceptional. I was pleased to see her eat and enjoy her meal. We’d sat close the entire time, exclaiming over our favorites, laughing, and talking. I stole kisses whenever I could—light little pecks on her cheek, the end of her nose, her full lips, and more than once, I’d indulged in my desire to bury my face in her neck and kiss her there. Inhale her fragrance. It was about as perfect a dinner as it could be.
We shared more information about ourselves. She talked about her brother, who worked in Alberta in the fuel sector. I told her about growing up as the only child of an Italian immigrant father and Canadian mother. I made her laugh with my imitations of my mother and father arguing over their different cultures and which was the best way to raise me.
“Are you still close?” she asked.
“My dad passed when I was twenty. He was a lot older than my mother. She lives in Florida now with her second husband. Good guy. They live in a little retirement community, and I go see them every year. I call her every week.”
“What does she think of your career?”
I winked. “She thinks I run a security firm. That I push paper and assign bodyguards to famous people.”
“So, she has no idea.”
“I do push a lot of paper around. I have someone else who assigns the jobs,” I admitted. “As for what I was trained for… No, she has no idea, and she never will.”
She looked away, reaching for her coffee cup. The movement caused her shawl to fall away, and I glimpsed the sight of dark marks on the top of her arm as she reached down to pull the shawl back into place.
Rage hit me like a wrecking ball, and I reached across to stop her hurried movement.
“Did he do that?” I seethed, pushing up her sleeve and seeing the impressions of fingers on her pale skin. “He fucking marked you?”
“They don’t hurt.”
“Not the point. You don’t touch a woman with anger. Ever. My father taught me that from the moment he could make me understand. Women are to be cherished. Protected. Cared for.” My hands shook in rage as I looked at the marks on her skin. “I am going to teach him a lesson he won’t forget.”
She cupped my cheek. “He grabbed me yesterday and shook me. I told you that. I bruise easily. I don’t want you going after him, Damien. If he leaves me alone, leave him alone.”
“Why?” I asked, pressing her hand to my cheek.
“I don’t want you hurt in any way. Please.”