Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Would you stand still?” she mutters, her words muffled by the pins hanging out of her mouth.
“I am standing still,” I throw back at her, already having had this argument three times over the past hour. “I’m practically a fucking statue at this point. What more do you want from me?”
“My model mannequin would never talk back to me like that.”
“Feel free to use that instead. But just for the record, your model mannequin also doesn’t have pain receptors, so next time you feel like sticking a pin into something, use that instead of me.”
“Ugh. Quit moving,” she demands, grabbing my hips and physically holding me in the exact same position I was already in. “You might as well be at a rave with the way you’re moving around.”
“What has gotten into you?” I ask. “You’re never this fussy when you’re working.”
Izzy glares at me before letting out a small huff and lowering her voice. “It’s your tag-along,” she finally admits. “He’s making me all stupid. I can’t concentrate, and I’m getting all nervous and sweaty. I have performance anxiety.”
I snort a laugh, and as I glance up at Diesel to see a smirk on his face, it becomes very clear that our conversation isn’t as private as Izzy thinks it is. “Uhhhh . . . You know your voice travels in here, right?”
Her eyes bulge out of her head as she looks up at me, horror flashing in her eyes. “Tell me you’re lying.”
“I hear you loud and clear, girl,” Diesel says in a deadly low tone that even has me starting to sweat. “But don’t worry. I like that I make you nervous. You’ve got me feeling some kind of way too.”
Goddamn.
Izzy’s cheeks flame with embarrassment, and she quickly buries her face into her hands, refusing to look back at him as she screams, her voice more than carrying around the studio now.
Diesel practically vibrates with silent laughter as Izzy eventually gets to her feet. She spares Diesel an awkward glance before turning back to me. “If you would excuse me for a moment, I need to go and kill myself now.”
“Fair call.”
Izzy strides out of the room, and for every step she takes, Diesel takes one of his own, needing to keep an eye on her just as much as he’s doing for me. Nobody could ever claim that he isn’t the perfect gentleman.
My phone rings from my bag, and I hoist up the endless amount of fabric hanging from my hips before stepping off the small podium and scurrying across the studio, assuming it’s Knight calling for his regular check-in, something I’ve noticed he’s been doing more often lately. Only as I find my phone and glance down at the screen, it’s not Knight’s name I find staring back at me, it’s Jonah’s.
“Welcome to the life that is otherwise known as Harper-Rayn Madden. How may I disappoint you today?” I tease, making my way back to the podium and hoping like hell that I’ve positioned myself just right.
Jonah laughs. “Awww, don’t be silly. You don’t need to do anything just to disappoint me. You do that without even needing to try.”
“Ugh. You’re such a moron,” I mutter, turning on the podium to get a better look at the design in the mirror behind me, and shit, Izzy really is at the top of her game. She’s a master at what she does. “To what do I owe the pleasure, big brother? You must forgive my confusion. Usually, you only call me when I’m dying in a hospital somewhere.”
“Wait. You’re not?”
“No.”
“Ahh, shit. You’re behind schedule, then. I figured it was a monthly occurrence now.”
I bark a laugh. “Tell me about it.”
“I mean, all jokes aside, you’re good, right?” he asks. “Did they ever catch the guy who stabbed you?”
“Wait. You’re for real right now? You don’t know?”
“What do you mean? I haven’t heard anything.”
“I thought you and Mom were like besties. She really hasn’t told you?” I ask, wondering if there’s been some other kind of falling-out that I don’t know about. It’s not normal for Mom not to try to insert herself into Jonah’s life, especially when she has so much bitching to do about me.
Jonah scoffs. “Mom hasn’t spoken to me since that bullshit dinner where she treated you like shit.”
I laugh again and try not to fall off the small podium. I wasn’t expecting that bomb to drop. “You’ll have to be more specific. That could be a number of occasions.”
I can practically hear the way he rolls his eyes, probably on the verge of calling me dramatic. “The one where I had the girls with me,” he clarifies. “I think she’s trying out the whole silent-treatment thing, but honestly, it’s been kind of peaceful.”
“Shit. I wish she’d try that one on me.”
“Right. It’s been nice,” he says. “So what’s this about the guy who stabbed you? Did they figure out who it was?”