Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I’m twitchy the whole way there. I keep thinking everyone I run into knows what I’ve got stashed away in the duffel bag slung over my back, but if anyone’s curious why Jayson’s wife needs to lug stuff over to the business center, they say nothing. I’m acutely aware that this whole building is intensely monitored and surveilled, but they can’t be watching everything at all times—there have to be some blind spots. I’m taking a big risk in hoping that the business center is so obscenely boring and barely used that nobody bothers keeping a close eye on it.
Because if I get caught with the documents in my bag, it’s over for me.
There’s no coming back from that.
My palms are sweating as I head down the hall. I try my hardest not to look up. Anything suspicious will tip off the guys that man the cameras, and I definitely don’t want to become a target right now. I feel their eyes everywhere, and I try thinking small thoughts, calm thoughts, like I’m a tiny mouse in a massive field. Nobody should notice a nothing like me.
Deep breaths. Stay calm. I smile at a pair of guests that pass me, both in athleisure, clearly coming from the spa. They smile back and I realize I’m being too much. Don’t be so damn friendly! I shouldn’t draw attention to myself, and grinning like a maniac’s only going to make them remember me.
Get it together. I have to pause near some bathrooms to gather myself. More deep breaths, in for four, hold for four, out for six, over and over until my heart rate settles. That’s a breathing exercise my father taught me when I was little. He probably hoped it would ease my tantrums, but it only made me keep a level head when I went around breaking his rules.
Thinking of Papa lights a fire in my belly. He’s the reason I’m doing this. My father was murdered by the Costa family, and if I keep sitting around pretending like I’m a part of them then I’ll lose the piece of me that can call myself Colm Grady’s daughter. I have to be stronger, faster, smarter than Jayson and all the rest. I’ll do this for my poor dead father, because he didn’t deserve to go like he did, and I don’t deserve to be stuck here as a prisoner bride in his wake.
I find the business center. It’s around the corner from the spa. The front entrance is a big glass door. Inside, a bunch of desks line the outer walls with open-seating tables in the middle. A few people are scattered around the room, most of them sitting at the computers checking email and reading Wikipedia, and nobody glances up as I stand at the head of the room, searching for the copier.
It takes a minute to find a side room labeled “Printing and Copying,” but before I can walk toward it, a hand falls down onto my shoulder. I yelp and whirl around, heart pounding into my throat, and I’m about to make a thousand excuses, about to kick and scream and fight—
But Jayson’s mother gives me a wary smile.
“Sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she says.
I feel like I might vomit. “Mrs. Costa,” I say. “Sorry. I just was lost in my own world.”
“No, I’m the sorry one. I shouldn’t go around grabbing people without announcing myself first. I just saw you as I was leaving the spa and hurried to catch up. What are you doing here?” She glances down at the duffel at my side, a small frown creasing her lips.
“I was, ah, going to use a computer.”
“Were you? I’m sure Jayson would buy you a laptop if that’s all you wanted.”
“He is—he would—but it hasn’t come yet.”
“Ah, right. And I bet you want to message your family.”
“Yes. I do. Right. And I’m hitting the gym after this.” I hold up the duffel, my ears burning bright red.
She considers that for a long moment, her eyes squinted. She’s in a casual Lululemon outfit, the perfect picture of a rich American lady after a morning of pampering. Her skin somehow glows. If I can look half as good at her age, I’ll consider it a win.
“I can only imagine how you must be feeling,” she says, speaking softly into the tense quiet of the business center. Nobody’s paying us any attention but I feel like the entire world is staring at me right now. I’m acting suspicious and she’s going to see through me if I can’t control myself, but doing my breathing exercise right in her face is going to seem bizarre.
“I’m settling.”
“Getting torn from home. Marrying a stranger.” She clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “Sometimes I forget how hard it is on the women.”