Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
What a choice of words. I might have been coming in a few minutes if it wasn’t for her interrupting us.
Bianca shakes her head, pulling away. “I need to get ready, too,” she whispers, frowning. “I’m going to need to borrow something from her, since I don’t have a lot of outfits that will work for tonight.”
“If it’s too much of a hassle, I could always leave you here, tied to the bed.”
“No way.” She flashes an impish smile while backing away. “You don’t tell a girl you’ll take her to dinner and change your mind.”
“Then you better get your ass moving little bird.” I grin, knowing I’ll have to wait till much later to devour her like I wanted too.
BIANCA
Now I understand why Tatum was dead set on getting dressed up tonight. We’re both wearing cocktail dresses and sky-high heels when we enter the upscale restaurant Callum owns.
I have to remind myself to not look like too much of a rube as I try to take everything in, the sleek, dark interior, the shining bar spanning one wall, and the open kitchen further back. The crew works like a well-oiled machine, moving quickly but smoothly through the process of creating food that smells good enough to make my stomach clench with hunger.
“Right this way,” the perky hostess beckons with a smile. “It’s been a long time since we last saw you, Mr. Torrio. But we know you’re a busy man.”
“And let’s be honest,” he replies with a charming grin. “Nobody wants to work with the owner looking over their shoulder.”
She blushes and giggles, which makes me want to scream. Where did that come from? That sudden, blinding rush of rage? I never thought of myself as a jealous person, but maybe I was wrong.
I want to wind an arm around his waist and silently tell her he’s mine, but I will not sink to that level.
Besides, I’m waiting for his move. He might think I’ll let our earlier conversation go, but he has another thing coming. He can’t expect me to show up on his arm without being willing to make a public commitment, so right now, I’m merely his guest.
The whole situation leaves me conflicted as Callum pulls my chair away from the table so I can take a seat at his right hand. His fingertips skim the nape of my neck before he pulls out Tatum’s chair across from mine. Even though it’s still humid and threatening to storm, we’re both wearing shawls to cover our respective bruises.
I guess all it took was her coming clean with me to pick up her spirits because her eyes sparkle with genuine warmth even when Romero sits beside her. He leaves plenty of space, as usual, but she doesn’t sneer at him the way she normally would. “You got roped into eating with us, huh?”
“I do what the boss says.” As usual, he’s not one for big conversations.
“I guess there are some perks that come with the job.” Anybody could hear the undercurrent of snarkiness, but all he does is blow out a deep breath through flared nostrils. He’s not taking the bait tonight.
The chef comes out to greet us, clasping one of Callum’s hands in both of his before we’re joined by a pair of tall, slim men in dark suits. The older of the two is handsome in a silver fox kind of way, his salt and pepper hair and icy gray eyes in contrast to his tanned skin. Both men share the same long, thin faces and cleft in their chins.
Father and son, the Moronis. Callum told us about them on the way here.
“Look who it is,” Romero murmurs as he pushes his chair back. “Your future husband.” Tatum flushes, shooting him a filthy look before he stands to shake hands with the men.
Callum nods to Tatum. “Jack, Dominic, this is my daughter, Tatum.”
I hold my breath, my skin tingling before Callum’s gaze falls on me. “And this is her friend, Bianca.”
I force an overly wide smile, nodding to the men before they both plant a kiss against the back of my hand. Dominic sits to my right, while his father sits opposite Callum at the rectangular table. We’re seated close to the kitchen, the chef’s tasting table, partly secluded by a low wall separating us from the rest of the dining room.
This would be like something out of a dream if it wasn’t for the disappointment that’s slammed into me. What did I expect? For Callum to stand on his chair and announce to the entire restaurant that I’m his woman? I don’t even want us to be public yet—not until I figure out a way to explain it to my dad without him having a stroke over it.
But here I am, ready to sulk, feeling like the poor girl who wants to sponge off her rich friend.