Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Maybe I should’ve asked Whit to give Tod money lessons because he’s hopeless with the stuff. He’s also hopeless with appointments. And the passing of time. The unloading of the dishwasher and adulting in general. It’s his artistic temperament, I suppose. When his muse strikes him, everything else in his life seems to gray out.
“I suppose I can loan you what you need,” I say, sighing resignedly.
“No, you can’t.”
“It’s not like it would be the first time.” Ignoring his frown, I carry on. “Come on. How much are we talking about? A few hundred?” Tod says nothing. “A thousand. A few thousand?” I suppose I can manage that much. If I pull out my emergency credit card.
But Tod shakes his head.
“More?” Damn. I’ll need to ask one of my brothers. Obviously, not Whit. My eldest brother has more money than God, but he’s not one to part with it willy-nilly. Not that I blame him, I suppose.
“Worse than that,” Tod says, morose. Jesus, is he about to cry?
“Not more than five figures. Tod?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I didn’t think I’d gotten in so deep. I almost passed out when I realized I had, but then, I had this amazing hand—a winning hand. The only problem was, I had nothing left to play with. But then I told him about you. And I said…”
“You said what?” I demand.
“That you were good for it.”
“I hope you didn’t say it that way.” My words take on a warning tone.
“What? Oh. No.”
“Because that would be less than flattering,” I add, not ready to release my frown. “And while I know nothing about poker, I do know we wouldn’t be having this conversation if your hand was that amazing.”
“I had four of a kind, but Raif—”
“So you lost.”
“Had a straight flush…” he finishes, his voice small. “I’ve got to pay up. I told him I’d come and find you. And he said ‘good’.”
“Good?”
“I thought I would find you, and we could leave before he realized.”
This is now… concerning.
“You thought we could leave because you can’t pay him?”
“Yes, but he sent his thugs with me. They’re standing outside the door.”
“Is this some kind of joke, Tod?”
“It’s bad, Ned. Really bad—”
“You’re telling me!”
“—because he doesn’t want your money. He wants you.”
2
LAVENDER
“Wants me to what?” Honestly, if my brows get any lower, they’ll be a mustache.
“He’s under the impression I was wagering you.”
The space between us falls silent before it fills with my bark of a laugh.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tod. You can’t bet people—you can’t own people. Not in this century.”
But Tod isn’t laughing. In fact, he looks in pain.
“He’s expecting me to hand you over. Like, right now.”
“Hand me…” I blink heavily as Tod’s explanation and its meaning sink in. “I’m not a fucking pizza!” I bellow, hurling my champagne glass across the room.
“I know,” he says as he ducks. But if I’d been aiming for him, he’d be picking glass out of his hair by now. “I know, and I’m sorry!”
“You’re sorry?” My voice is so shrill, I wouldn’t be surprised to find myself surrounded by barking dogs. Closing the space between us, I stomp across the room without giving a flying fart for the sway of my dress as I swing it out of the way. “What you are is a fucking ingrate. After everything I’ve done for you! I’m not your posh Patek Phillipe,” I say, poking him in the chest, “because I’m not fake!”
“I lost that already.”
“I’m not a piece of art you can sell or trade!”
“I tried that—ow! Ned, you punched me.” His tone is full of reproach as he rubs his injured shoulder.
“It wasn’t an accident.” As one of seven siblings, four of them brothers, I know how to scrap—fight outside of polite lines. But I suppose the funny thing about that is, the one time I needed my fight club skills, they deserted me. I froze. But not now. Because now I think I might just pulverize Tod. “I’m going to do it again, only much harder and somewhere much more sensitive if you don’t tell me exactly, immediately, what the fuckery you’re talking about.”
“I didn’t mean—”
I raise my fist, but it seems my scowl is frightening enough as he brings up his hands in a show of surrender.
“I just meant you’d bail me out,” he blurts. “Not that I thought you’d need to—I swear I thought I had a winning hand!”
“Well, that makes me feel so much better.”
“I didn’t for one minute think I was offering you up as… as…”
“Collateral?” I sound like the queen. The angrier I get, the posher my accent becomes.
“But then I lost, and he said that wasn’t the deal. I argued, Ned. I really did!”
“My hero,” I deadpan.
“But then he sort of loomed over me.” His eyes dip to where my foot taps against the wooden floor. “And I…”