Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Wondering didn’t do much good. The same way that it hadn’t with Brent. My life was the way it was now. I wouldn’t change it. Didn’t want to, Even though it scared me sometimes. Even though Jay scared me sometimes, the way I felt for him. His life, the one that meant blood on his hands, that meant men with guns, that meant ‘fighting for territory’, that meant a bunch of different ways he could be stolen from me.
Ollie was tilting his head, looking at me. “It doesn’t make me feel any better,” he smirked. “But he’s a lucky man.”
“I’m a lucky woman,” I countered.
He narrowed his eyes. “He ever fucks up, you call me.”
I laughed. “He’s not going to fuck up.”
His face went serious. “I don’t suspect he will, if he’s smart.”
Silence lingered, leaving me feeling slightly uncomfortable before he clapped his hands. “Well, if I can’t marry you, I’ll at least get you to make me look like a normal man so I can attract a normal, down to earth woman.”
I smiled. “Well, you’re never going to look like a normal man, since you’re ... you. And you’re in the wrong industry and city for that matter for a down to earth woman, but let’s try our best.”
And we did. Just like that, Ollie weathered the rejection. Did not sour or turn mean and dangerous. He accepted that he couldn’t have me, accepted that I’d chosen my man and accepted we were going to be friends.
Yeah, luckily for me, he was a good guy. Pretty darn close to Prince Charming.
Which was great. If you are in to that kind of thing.
The punishment I was expecting when I arrived home did not come. Debussy was playing, Jay was in the kitchen, his shirt sleeves rolled up, still wearing the rest of his suit. It was postponed because after dinner, we were going to drinks that Wren was throwing. Drinks that were bound to be strong enough to fell a horse, which meant eating prior to consuming them was a must. I’d mentioned this to Jay as a joke last week when she told us about it, but I hadn’t figured he’d take me so seriously.
It warmed my heart that he had.
My heart was warm right until I saw his face, sensing his energy when I came into the kitchen, depositing my purse on the counter.
He still kissed me hello, still squeezed me close, but something was off. Something that had me retreating to the other side of the kitchen counter, happy that there was a fresh martini there.
Jay did not speak. Nor did I. He wasn’t exactly the guy to say, “hey honey, how was your day?” But he was the guy who had promised a punishment when I got home tonight. And Jay was a man who kept his promises, especially when it came to punishments. Punishments in the form of sex acts, punishments that included canes, blindfolds and extremely dirty sex. Yes, he kept those promises. Every. Time.
But not tonight.
Though I hadn’t done a single thing wrong, anxiety ate at the pit of my stomach. This in itself was a punishment. The bitterness in the air, Jay’s stiff jaw, his shuttered eyes.
“You’re not to see him anymore,” Jay finally spoke.
I blinked at the man in front of me. My future husband. The one who had uttered that sentence so mildly. Who said it and then returned to chopping mushrooms.
“Excuse me?”
My tone made him look up from the mushrooms. As it fucking should’ve.
“This Oliver Cummings. He wants you, Stella. And you’re mine.” He enunciated every word, speaking slowly. Purposefully. He’d put down the knife he had been using, palms now flat on the kitchen counter, giving me his full attention. “I do not want you spending time with a man who wants what’s mine.”
I took a deep breath. Then another. “Okay, so despite the fact that you’re a very intelligent, street smart, master criminal, you obviously do not know to decipher the warning in those two words I just spoke, and you didn’t decide to check yourself before you wreck yourself.” I did not speak slowly. Nor did I speak evenly, like Jay had. My face was not carefully blank. I made sure to show just how pissed off I was with my tone, my expression and my body language.
“Don’t try and cute your way out of this, Stella,” Jay said, eyes glittering ever so slightly with amusement.
Which made all of this worse. “Don’t try and fucking patronize me by insinuating my anger is ‘cute’ to you, therefore insignificant and not valid. Because when you’re angry, God save the person who would describe you as cute,” I hissed, leaning forward over the counter.
Jay’s jaw went tight, and his brows puckered ever so slightly. “I did not mean to insult you, Stella.”