Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I go to send the photo to Posie, and my thumb hovers over the send button. What in the ever-fucking hell am I doing? Messaging a woman when she doesn’t even want to fuck me? That’s a lie. I know she wants to fuck me. I can sense it in the way her body reacts to me. I have to treat Posie differently than any other… conquest isn’t the right word.
Fuck it. I hit send and immediately throw the gelato in the trash. The server’s jaw drops as if I’d just committed blasphemy.
But perhaps Posie was right about one thing. I should get a few hours of sleep.
I go to pocket my phone, but a new notification lights the screen.
Posie hearted my message.
I’m uncomfortable by the unfamiliar emotion that stirs within me at that.
It’s similar to the effects of being praised as a child for doing something right. I haven’t required that from people for a very long time. So why am I feeling it now?
I stuff that right down with the unknown emotions that don’t serve me. But at least I know she’s finally being more responsive to my messages, and for the first time, she actually answered a fucking call.
Hallelujah! We’re making progress.
CHAPTER 18
Dutton
“Do you like the texture?” Billie asks our mother, referring to the tiramisu she made. We’d just had dinner and were sitting around the table, the two of them enjoying their dessert while my father and I each sip a glass of whiskey.
“Oh, sweetheart. You’ve done so well!” My mother applauds. Billie takes a scoop of the tiramisu with a smile on her face.
I only just returned today, but as is tradition, we try to have a family dinner at least once a month. A few years ago, my mother made a rule that there should be no business talk at the table, so we often talk about trivial matters.
“Eli seems happily married,” my mother says, which is her way of starting a very specific conversation that my parents seem to be focusing on a lot more lately.
Billie rolls her eyes. “I love Jewel, but Eli is so pussy whipped. He always gets mad when we’re hanging out over there, even though Jewel says it’s okay.”
They’ve always invited themselves, and Eli has, in fact, always had an issue with them being there.
But now that the topic has changed, I can expect what’s to come.
Eli is married, so it’s my turn.
“Marriage isn’t for everyone, but I think it might suit you nicely, son.” My father is many things, and persistent is absolutely one of them. He likes to say it’s how he won my mother over. If that’s true, then I don’t know why the same thing isn’t working for me.
However, I don’t require further details about some of the stories I’ve heard about them—especially the one about my mother being part of the virginity auctions. Nausea rolls through me. Nope, I definitely don’t want to hear more about that.
“Or even dating,” Billie presses with a suggestive raise of her eyebrow. “Weren’t you supposed to be going on a date with a blonde stripper?” she asks, placing the spoon on her tongue with a smug expression.
My hands ball into fists. This entire family is nothing but gossips, I swear. I don’t even have to ask her who she heard that from because I know without doubt it was Hawke, who has the biggest fucking mouth.
“Dating?” my mother questions, this obviously news to her. “Who are you dating? What is she like?”
“I’m not dating anyone,” I grit out. “I understand everyone here is excited by Eli taking a wife, but might I remind you all that I have never had, nor will I ever have, any intention of marrying.”
“It just means you haven’t met the right person, sweetie,” my mother says softly.
They act like running the type of business I do, and being associated with the Monti family is easily accepted by most women. It’s only because my mother was raised in the mafia that she was so accepting of my father’s businesses. I’ve never once had the urge to tie myself to another person, ask for permission, or have them wait for me to return home every night. I’m not a man who answers to anyone.
“I don’t think there’s someone out there for everyone, Mother.”
She looks sad, and I hate that I offend her with that belief, but she’s building her hopes up on something that will never happen.
“Well, any woman cut from the same cloth as you must be an ice queen. Hello? Personality, where are you?” Billie jests.
“Billie!” my mother chastises, and I can’t help but smile at that one. It was pretty good. She mirrors my smile.
My father, however, is watching me from the corner of his eye. Not that I explain myself to many, but I do to him at times. He is my father, after all. “I run a fucking sex empire, an even bigger one than you did at my age. There is nothing but my work. And, yes, I am married to that and will stay married to it for the rest of my life.”