Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“The next auction is in six weeks?”
I nod. “10 PM at the Gallery D.”
Jameson turns to Justin. “How many men are you bringing this time?”
“Twenty. A dozen with me inside, eight stationed outside. The extraction team will have another twenty members.”
Jameson checks his tablet and scrolls down before he meets my gaze. “It’s a ‘premium’ location, so the security system will be tight.”
I lift one shoulder. “I don’t expect anything less.”
Jameson nods slowly and smirks. “When all this is over, let’s try our hand at creating a security system like no other, something that not even our baby brother can breach.”
For the first time since we discussed the next operation, Jasper’s face brightens. “In addition to the hotels, we can offer the best security money can buy.” He slides his chair to Justin. “How about it, Jus? Fancy being a celebrity’s bodyguard?”
Justin snorts. “Fuck off. You do it yourself since you’re so good at charming the ladies.”
The earlier tension in the room grows lighter as our discussion shifts to less depressing matters—the construction of our latest hotel building in Asia, the upcoming annual stakeholders meeting, which we know only Jameson and Jasper will attend, and other small stuff.
We don’t acknowledge it anymore, but we all know where our heads are at. We can banter and laugh, but we’re all thinking the same thing—our dear Uncle Jackson is still alive somewhere destroying lives. As long as we don’t find him, he’ll never stop.
It’s up to us to put an end to this.
4
ZARA
Dinner with my parents is always fun. I know several kids don’t like dining with their family as they grow older, but not me. I love my folks, and I enjoy their company.
They’re also the reason why I don’t do casual relationships or hook-ups. I see how they are with each other and wish for something like that for myself.
Throughout dinner, however, my mind kept straying to Alec. Was I just physically attracted to him? Sure. Maybe. But I never had a problem keeping my wits about me when it came to guys. With Alec, it was like I turned into a different person—someone desperate for his attention and touch.
I was so preoccupied with how I behaved around him—even if he didn’t mention it during breakfast the next day—that I didn't notice the number of glasses I had.
When my parents drop me off at the apartment, I’m already swaying sideways. They’re a bit worried, but I assure them I can go up on my own. I don’t want Mom to see the broken elevator because she’ll definitely pack my bags and take me somewhere else … somewhere away from Alec.
Dad offers to take me to my unit, but I refuse. He’s more protective than Mom, and if he sees all the things that need improvement—and there’s a lot—he’ll most likely call the landlord and give a lengthy discussion about how it’s unsafe for a young woman like me.
After some explaining and using my birthday to convince them that I can go up by myself, they finally leave … but only once I call them that I’m inside my apartment.
I’m not. The stairs sway under my feet, and I have to crawl like a hefty reptile, clinging to the handrail as if it’s my lifeline. Thank goodness no one else is around. If Alec sees me like this, I swear I’m moving in the morning. Attraction be damned.
The stairs stretch out before me, and I wonder if the world will ever stop spinning faster and faster. It feels like hours, but at last, I reach my floor. Still clutching onto the handrail, I lift myself to my feet and blink several times.
Everything is still a bit out of focus, but at least it’s just a few doors more and I can finally rest.
My steps are unsteady and uneven. I consider it a win that I no longer feel like I’m in a moving ship. Standing in front of my door, I fish out my keycard from my pocket and swipe it. It beeps but there’s no audible click. I try again and again.
None.
I rattle the knob and slam my palm against the door. Promising myself I won’t drink again even if it’s with my parents, I kick the door and lower myself to the floor. Exhaustion pulls at me, and suddenly, sleeping here doesn’t sound too bad. What’s the worst that can happen? A neighbor reporting me? Pfft. I’d report the landlord himself for false advertisement.
I start to lie down when the door swings open. The harsh glare of the light streaming behind someone casts his or her face into shadow. My eyes squint at the shadowy outline.
“Who are you?” My voice comes out in a squeak. I need water because my throat feels like I swallowed sand. “Why are you inside m-my a-apartment?”