Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
I am fully embracing that “mouthy bitch” nickname.
“Do you know who the men were back at that table?” he asks.
I scoff at him. “I couldn’t care less.”
“That was the head of the dockworkers’ union, his right-hand man, and his lawyer. We were discussing a matter that will affect all of Chicago for years to come, and I’m pretty sure you ruined any chances I had at convincing them to take my side, slim as they might’ve been. Your outburst lost me a lot of money.”
I let that sink in. Dockworkers and unions and lawyers—I knew Evander was connected and rich but I had no clue how deep it went. This is serious politics, and I still don’t have any clue what Evander is and what he does for a living, but a lot of my fire dims at the prospect of blowing a massive deal over a misunderstanding.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have thrown the money at you. I’ll admit that was a little bit over the top.”
“A little bit,” he confirms.
“I didn’t know it was that important. You didn’t tell me anything, and I just—”
“Did you tell me everything about yourself last night? All I know about you is your name, that you’re from Philadelphia, and you’re running from some man. That’s all. Did you expect my life story in exchange for that paltry bit of information?”
“I don’t know, I just—”
“You just wanted to feel good, and that’s what I wanted too. I left that money to help you, Camille, because I like you for some god-forsaken reason. Now I will handle the fallout of your temper tantrum, but I am warning you.” He comes closer, looming and massive. “I will not tolerate something like that again.”
Fear jabs into my heart.
He’s looking at me like he could break me, and I think of Christopher and his temper, but Evander is nothing like that.
Where Christopher was random, his anger burning bright and hot and sudden for no discernable reason at all, Evander is frozen and cold, like ice-covered steel.
It’s not a threat—it’s an unyielding promise. An immoveable force. Fuck with him and he will fuck back.
“You won’t ever see me again,” I say as I turn my cheek. “I’m leaving the city.”
“That’s for the best.” A long beat passes between us, and a strange stab of regret hits me. I wonder what could’ve been if I hadn’t stormed into the dining room the way I did and ruined whatever we had between us. “Take this.” He steps closer and holds out a card.
“What’s that?”
“It’s not more money, I promise.”
I take it and stare at the words. It’s only his name above a phone number, printed in black. “Why?” I ask, utterly confused, because I don’t deserve anything from him.
“I have a feeling you’re going to need help sooner rather than later, and for some reason I don’t believe you when you say you’re going to leave the city.”
“You want to help me, even after… after that?”
“God knows why, but we’ll see.” He turns away. “There’s always a price for everything, isn’t there? Give me a call if you ever want a job.”
I clench my jaw. “If that’s some comment about the money—”
“No comment. I mean it. I’m offering you a job and a fresh start. I know you want to get out of Chicago, but it’s a big city, and besides, you’d be safe working for me.” He pauses at the door and looks back. “Sleeping with you last night was the highlight of my year. Maybe my last few years. Good luck running, Camille. Call me if you ever decide to stop.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me alone in the private dining room, not sure if I hate him or want to drag him back in here to kiss me some more, and wondering what the hell sort of man I got myself involved with.
Chapter 7
Camille
The shadiest car rental place in the world gets the eighth credit card to work and lets me drive off in a thirty-year-old Nissan Altima that jolts and stutters as I cruise away from Chicago.
I’m thinking about Evander the whole way.
I should have my future at the top of my mind—I still don’t know where I’m going or if I’ll sleep in a warm bed or in the back seat of this dumpy car—and my stomach’s beginning to rumble. Fortunately, I stole food from the Drake’s complimentary breakfast table, but that won’t last forever.
I still can’t get Evander out of my mind.
It’s not just the sex. I mean, yeah, it’s the sex. That was really good sex. But it’s also the way he looked at me, and spoke to me, and touched my skin, and later, the way he gave me his card even though I went full-on crazy on him with all that cash and definitely ruined whatever deal he was setting up with those union guys.