Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Four, did my pink eternity band sell?
That being the easiest question to answer, I pull up my website’s back end to see that yes, the ring did sell. Woo-hoo! That’s another $500 toward my credit card bill! A few clicks later, the buyer has been sent an email thanking them for their purchase and I’ve got a shipping label printed. Even though the post office is closed today, I box the ring up beautifully, prepping it to begin its trek to its new owner in Oregon tomorrow. The small win restores my sense of control in some small way, reminding me that I can handle the rest of my to-do list too.
Even though I’m expecting my food delivery, the knock on my door scares the bejesus out of me. I jump a foot in the air, clutching invisible pearls at my neck, before laughing at myself. One glance at my phone, and I see the notification that my order has been delivered. Still, I peek out the peephole, checking the section of hallway that I can see.
The coast is clear, and heaven in a box waits just on the other side of the door. I open it slowly, already bending down to grab the bag when footsteps sound out on the stairs a few doors away.
I glance up as the two people I want to see least come into view. Not my brother and Griffin. I wish it were them. But no, my life couldn’t go that well. It’s the guys from the game.
I gasp in startled shock. They’ve found me!
How and why do things like this keep happening to me? Did I piss someone off in a former life, and now I’m doomed to catastrophe after catastrophe as punishment? Is there some sage-infused penance I can do to make it stop? Hell, I’d snort the whole damn sage stick if it’d help at this point.
But I don’t think that’d really work either.
“Shit!” I hear one of them mutter, and then he’s running toward my door.
I abandon my food, slamming the door shut as fast as I can and locking the dead bolts, wishing we had more than the two, which have always seemed perfectly adequate until now. Today, with the Mob bearing down on my door, I’m thinking steel core and twenty locks would be better, and then I’d only lock half of them so that if they tried to pick them, they’d be unlocking some and relocking others.
Back pressed to the door, fear dumps into my veins. What am I going to do?
I need to call the police. I need to call Griffin. Those are the only two things that come to mind. Only then do I belatedly consider grabbing a knife.
I hear a muffled voice in the hallway and press my ear to the door, listening. “We didn’t mean to scare her, boss. We were coming up the stairs, and there she was.” The voice goes silent, and I assume he’s listening to someone else talk that I can’t hear. Another glance through peephole tells me the taller of the two guys is on the phone. “Yeah, will do.”
A loud knock on my door sends me scurrying back like their break-in is imminent. “Miss Lee, we’re here to apologize. Mr. Conniver would like to have a word with you.”
I let out a nearly silent laugh, wondering if that actually works on people. Yeah, sure, a Mob boss wants a word? Pretty sure that word is murder.
“Miss Lee?” He knocks again.
I look around as if a solution will appear out of thin air, and when it doesn’t, and unsure what else to do, I fake a bad accent and say through the door, “No Miss Lee here. Wrong apartment.”
“Your food is sitting here with your name on it. And we know who you are,” he answers dryly. Silently, I mouth, Shit. “We’re here to apologize for scaring you. We just wanted the ring, and we understand you don’t have it anymore. We’re sorry.”
If you look up insincere in the dictionary, you’ll find an audio clip of that apology. But I’m not looking for us to braid each other’s hair and do a few trust falls like besties. I want them to go away. And I want my eggs Benedict, which is probably going all soggy in the box because of them.
“Okay, apology accepted. Bye now!”
“Mr. Conniver still wants to speak with you.”
“No thanks.”
On the other side of the door, I hear his voice again, but he doesn’t seem to be talking to me. I risk looking through the peephole again and see that he’s back on his phone. “I said sorry and told her you want to speak to her. She said no, thanks.” He shakes his head at the other guy, who shrugs. “Do you want us to take her by force?”