Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Keep biting on that gauze,” I told her, running a finger over the bulge in her cheek. “I know he was wearing a mask when he attacked you. But the guy at the house… that wasn’t Drake. It seems like he hired someone to try to kill you.”
Lula exhaled hard, shaking her head.
“Huck offered the clubhouse, if you want to go that route. I just thought you might want more privacy than that.”
She nodded as Ama came back into the room, handing me scripts, then setting up and injecting the tetanus booster before telling us we could head out.
Lula was too quiet through the process of leaving the clinic, climbing back into Teddy’s car, and making our way to the hotel.
“She okay?” Teddy asked as he climbed out with me.
“Think she’s just trying to hold it together until she’s somewhere more private.”
He nodded to that.
“I made sure the penthouse has everything you need for the night. But if there’s anything else, just call down to the desk.”
“Thank you, Teddy. You’ve done a lot for us already.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just take care of that girl.”
With that, I opened Lula’s door, watching as she self-consciously tugged her cover-up tightly around her body and ducked her head as we made our way through the doors and into the lobby.
She turned her back on the desk as I got the key for the private elevator, refusing to lift her chin until we were alone again.
As if she had anything to be ashamed of.
But her silence was starting to bother me as I unlocked the door and we stepped into the penthouse.
“Lula…”
That was all it took.
Her breath caught on a sob.
As soon as my arms were around her and her face was pressed to my chest, all of the fear, pain, and uncertainty finally poured out.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lula
I’d been present—but not—all during the trip to the clinic, then the ride to the hotel.
But then Raff had to go give me the soft voice. That was it.
The floodgates opened.
And I was pouring.
It felt like it went on forever, my already sore face hurting more with each passing moment as my face contorted, as my tears flowed.
All the while, Raff just held me, ran his hands up and down my back, pressed soft kisses to my temple.
Until, finally, I was wrung dry.
“Well, then,” he said when I was done, forcing his tone to be light. “Now that that’s out of the way. Let’s get you into a bubble bath and fresh clothes, yeah?”
Before waiting for a response, he took off across the space and disappeared down a short hall.
Yes, a hall.
This hotel room had a hallway.
Because it wasn’t just any hotel room; it was a penthouse suite. Which, as far as I could tell, took up half of the upper floor. Meaning, it was enormous.
It looked recently redone, too, with its crazy textures and darker woods—giving it an elevated but cozy vibe that made you want to sink your toes into the plush carpet and curl up on the couch with a book or movie.
There was a whole kitchen with dark wood cabinets and marble counters with brown and gold veins.
The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the lights of Miami, the sky behind it taking on a deep blue that said sunrise wasn’t far behind it.
I walked over toward them, staring out at the town, wondering if Drake was out there somewhere, if he knew his man had failed yet. Would he run? Would I ever be able to find him?
Maybe it had been a pipe dream to think I could have some grand confrontation scene in the first place. What did I hope to accomplish? Even if he had the money, what were the chances that he’d give it back?
“Goddess? I mean, Lula?” Raff called, making me roll my eyes before turning. Only to find him standing there with a small trash can. At my pinched brows, he shrugged. “You can ditch the gauze now,” he told me. “I can’t get your script filled right now, but the club gave me the leftover pills from the last time one of them got fucked up. I’d like to get one in you before your bath. Get it working so you can sleep.
I leaned over the trash and spat the gauze out, surprised how willing I was to do something like that in front of anyone else. But, I guess, road-tripping with someone kind of stripped away all those little self-conscious concerns. It was hard to be perfectly pretty, controlled, and polished when you spent nearly every hour the day with someone.
Raff could handle the less glamorous parts of me.
“How’s it feel?”
“Weird. But it’s not bleeding.”
“Not bleeding is usually the goal. So, will you take the meds?”
“Yeah. I could use some good sleep after tonight. And I don’t think I’d get it without some painkillers.”