Series: Penny Dee
Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“You’re to stop seeing him and never speak of this to anyone,” I say, and she lifts her head, her eyes growing wide, shocked. “It’s hard to get good help these days, but I mean it, Tori—if you ever betray me again, I’ll do far worse than what Silas Vescari will.”
She hiccups and then sobs. “I’m so sorry, Leonore.”
I grow uncomfortable with her sobbing. “The money at the front still needs to be counted,” I instruct, looking down at my work. I can sense her gaze on me as she sucks up another sob.
“Thank you, Leonore. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
Promises, huh? Even though they’re almost always broken. I look up to the vacant chair once she’s gone. Maybe I am turning soft, but my world is starting to change once again, and slowly, I’m having to choose who can and can’t be in it.
I sigh, feeling exhausted as I think of Nessa. How many chances can you give someone? I’m a fool for sticking my neck out for her, especially against Silas. Then again, he’s after the person who killed his uncle. Not the foolish girl who simply unlocked a door at a time she shouldn’t. Which still technically means that the only asshole who actually broke into my office and made himself at home is Silas.
I begin work on a body, finding my happy place, where I’m not thinking about anything or anyone. The dead don’t complain. My music blasts out the outside world as I busily immerse myself in my world again, but it doesn’t last long.
“Phone call,” Tori says, pausing my music. I look up at her, and she’s pale. She knows that I don’t take calls while I’m working. But considering how terrified she looks, I can assume who’s on the other side of the phone. I’d usually tell her to hang up, but I think she’ll have a fucking heart attack if I do. I snap one of my gloves off and walk over to the phone and grab it with my hand that isn’t gloved.
“Hello.”
“When can I see you again?” No hello, just straight to the point and ever demanding. His voice is rough, and my body naturally responds to it like a calling card. It’s imagined his body against mine vividly for days.
“I’m busy working, is that all?” Tori seems to let out a breath, realizing it’s not about her, and walks out of the room. I casually lean against the wall.
“I’m standing out front,” he says. My eyebrows dip. Pushy bastard.
“I told you not to come to my work,” I remind him.
“And I am not inside. I’m outside, looking in as I wait for you to come out.”
“You are insufferable,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Yes, that may be the case, but…”
“But nothing.” I remove my other glove. “If I need you, I’ll call you.”
“But you never call,” he makes the point to say.
“Exactly,” I say in a too chipper voice as if he’s a good boy for finally getting it. “Good night, Silas.” I hang up the phone.
Much like the advice I’ve given to Tori, I can’t let myself become the stupid girl again. I can’t let my guard down around Silas. Although, whatever is between us is intoxicating, I know how this ends.
“Does he know?” Tori asks as I walk to the front and put the phone down. I keep the lights off as I look out. I see him leaning against his car as he looks down at his phone. He glances up, and I swear he looks right at me, but it’s impossible to see me without any lights on. The office windows are tinted, extremely dark for a reason. A smirk plays on his lips, and then he turns, opening his car door and getting in before he drives off.
“No,” I tell her. “And he never will.”
And I promise I’ll be taking this secret to the grave.
Nessa sits across from me the following morning. I can honestly say I’ve never felt so distant from my best friend before. I’m not even sure I recognize the person in front of me right now. Her eyes seem a little vacant, and she keeps fidgeting with her fork as she looks down at the food she hasn’t touched. We are at IHOP, where we usually meet up. The server knows us and immediately brought out our usual orders, but I’m not in the mood for my French toast, and Nessa doesn’t seem to be in the mood for her food either.
“Are you mad?” she finally asks.
“Mad?” I repeat, letting the word sit between us. My voice is controlled, but it’s not calm. “No. I think mad is too fucking simple for how I’m currently feeling.”
Her eyes flicker. “Then what is it?”
I laugh once, short, humorless.
“Disappointed,” I say, slower now. “Sad? And honestly? Humiliated, for you.”