Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
But it’s too late. He’s visiting the Crowleys and probably told them about the long-distance thing.
I made my choice and so did he.
Only I hate the way things are going, and I don’t know if I can turn back.
I want what they have. Brice and Kat, I want the babies, the husband, the life. Both of them seem so happy, so sure of themselves. It’s like they’re the women I’m striving to be, and instead of following my heart, I’m forcing myself down a path I’m not sure about.
Chasing after a dream job I don’t know will satisfy me.
Gareth gives me more than I ever dreamed about. Being with him makes me happy—and a job is only a job. There are a million more jobs out there.
There’s only one Gareth.
Heck, I don’t know what to do. Seeing Brice and Kat only made my decision that much harder, because now it seems so obvious I’m doing the wrong thing.
Only I don’t know what’s right.
Chapter 42
Gareth
I spend a few days in Boston getting a feel for the city. I meet with all the brothers except for Liam—no shock there—and have dinner with Orin on the last night. He seems as stressed as he was back in the office, only drunker.
“Don’t ever forget, they’re out for blood,” he says on the sidewalk outside of the expensive restaurant. He grabs my shoulder, stares into my eye. “They’re all out for blood, Gareth.”
I have no clue who he means, but I can imagine it’s everyone. In his business, in his position, real paranoia must be the norm, and a shiver runs down my spine trying to picture myself working for this man.
I can’t stop thinking about the difference between Beach Orin and Office Orin on the flight back to Dallas. I keep seeing him standing there behind the desk surrounded by all the trappings of power—huge windows overlooking the city, oil paintings on the walls, expensive wooden furniture, priceless books and artifacts on the shelves—but looking absolutely diminished.
Smaller, worn down, sanded down into nothing. He’s like a completely different man, and if I hadn’t seen the other Orin, I never would’ve believed the contrast could be so stark.
The Orin down the beach was alive. He was happy, outgoing, loud. Beach Orin looked like he loved life, loved his family, loved waking up in the morning.
But the man in the office was small, shriveled, weighed down by stress and rage, beset by enemies both real and imagined.
It’s a hard contrast, and I’m still trying to come to grips with what it means.
And what it would mean for me to follow him down that path.
Because that’s what will happen when I move out to Boston. I’ll become the Crowley lawyer, working for them full-time—still helping out my other clients, but I can’t pretend like I wouldn’t give the Crowleys most of my attention.
I’d be on the path toward power. Real power, like the kind Orin wields.
Except as I travel closer, I’ll be wrung out, squeezed for more and more of my time and attention.
Seeing it, even that one rare glimpse, didn’t make it seem appealing.
Not in the least.
Instead, it made me think about Fiona. About her white bikini, her skin pink and sun-kissed, her body glimmering with suntan lotion and sweat. About her whimpers as I ran my tongue along her pussy, eating her like a man possessed, loving her taste, loving the way she came. Her orgasm, her gasps, her laughter, her smiles. Her body pressed against mine.
Could I really give that up?
I get back to the apartment, exhausted. Travel always takes it out of me. I step over the threshold, head into the kitchen—and there she is.
Fiona, my wife. Smiling at me. “Welcome home,” she says.
Oh, fuck.
It hits me all at once.
Wow.
She looks stunning. Hair up, in short-shorts and a tank top, showing off her body like it’s no big thing. Glistening slightly, probably fresh from a workout.
Simple. Not made up, nothing pretentious. Nothing fancy.
And still absolutely beautiful.
Looking at her now, I can’t imagine ever walking away.
“Hey,” I say, and the weariness dissipates, like she gives me extra energy.
Suddenly, I’m happy to be home.
“How was it?” she asks, pouring herself some water and drinking half of it down. “Sorry, I just rode the bike for an hour.”
“No worries, I don’t mind looking at you.” I lean against the counter, heart pounding. “Trip was fine.”
“Fine? That’s all?” Her eyebrows raise. “Give me more. Come on, you’re going to move there, you have to have something to say.”
“Honestly, it’s hard to think clearly with you looking so good.”
She laughs, face flushed. “There’s the Gareth I remember. Why do you always do that?”
“Do what? Tell you the truth?”
“Flirt with me.”
“I like flirting with you. It feels good.”
Actually, it feels right. But I can’t say that out loud.
“You’re a tease, Gareth Kane.” I expected her to be angry, but instead, she’s smiling. She’s easy and free in a way the Crowleys aren’t. Theirs is a dark world, a dangerous world. Fiona’s light and life. She’s pleasure and laughter.