Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
He’s different from his brothers and sisters, and his father, too.
For so long I assumed that Noah was defined by his money, but in reality, he defies definition completely.
He’s just… himself.
And I realize that I would rather be back there on campus, with him, than anywhere else right now.
Get the fuck out of my head, Vancliff.
Need to stay focused on shit that actually matters. My work. My studies. My own goddamn future that nobody can make happen other than me.
I ball my hands into fists, then let them go.
“Fuck this,” I say under my breath, tearing my eyes away from the picture.
I head back downstairs to do damage control with Prince Vaughn so I can finally fucking leave.
11
Noah
It’s Friday night, and I’m certain I’ve lost my mind.
It was a good run.
I made it to the summer after junior year of college, and I had a pretty fun life until now, but my mental state is fraying to its edges and I’m seriously starting to think I’ve been placed under some kind of curse.
Today, Roman found me and let me know that he confirmed something about the guys who tried to kidnap me: they’re members of the Maletti family.
That name meant nothing to me, until today.
Until Roman specifically told me two sentences that shared more information than he’d ever shared with me in all the years I’ve known him.
“The Maletti family is stirring up problems that we thought we settled a long time ago,” Roman told me a few hours ago, sitting in the Onyx House living room. “They are brutal, and they need to be handled.”
Great.
Cool.
Roman Petrov, who could describe a knife fight as “no biggie,” is describing these Maletti people as brutal… and those are the people that are after me, following me, and apparently now know my full name.
Roman confirmed that the fact that they know my name means they probably are aware now of exactly where I live, and my involvement with Onyx House. But Roman also said that if they haven’t already kidnapped or killed me, there’s probably a reason for that.
“They’re scared,” Roman told me. “And the bullshit from the night at the loading dock was just a bluff for attention.”
And I hope to fucking hell that’s true.
Right now, it’s strip poker time.
Finally something I’ve been looking forward to all week, and my shot at thinking about something other than gunfights and crime and… Torin’s absence.
Not that I’m thinking about that.
I drum my fingertips over a knot in the patio table out back, trying to catch the same vibe that everyone else seems to be on tonight.
The string lights are on in the backyard. Everyone’s gathered around the long table on the patio, as well as Bree, one of her friends, and a couple of guys that Rayne invited. It still smells like the grill that Weston had fired up a couple of hours ago, and it’s the time of the evening where everybody around me is starting to get warm, happy, and tipsy.
“Holy shit. Noah, how do you say fuck the hell off in Latin?” Bree asks from the chair beside me, after pointing across the table and calling bullshit after a bad round.
“Direct translation?”
She tilts her head back and lets out a comical roar. “I don’t care. Any translation.”
Bree has the rest of the guys laughing their asses off right now. Everyone is relaxed, kicking back, and in various states of undress after a few rounds of strip poker have gone by.
“Futue te ipsum,” I tell her. “It means ‘go fuck yourself,’ so that should help.”
She starts repeating it over and over again to the guys around the poker table, smiling as she pushes back her chair, standing up. She bunches up the bottom of her dress, slowly beginning to slide it up and revealing inch after inch of smooth skin.
Typically I’d be buzzed right now, the world beginning to melt away into a hazy, soft cloud.
I’m still on edge, though.
It only takes a few rounds of strip poker to realize that it’s a very different experience when you’re the only one not drinking.
And I’m still unable to drop the image of Torin from my head.
Again… not that I’m still thinking about it.
Haven’t seen him in days.
I’ve already lost my shirt in the poker game.
I’m sitting here in only my dark denim, the warm air on my skin.
Oliver opted to take off his pants after his losing round, so he’s currently in black boxer briefs and a tank top.
And as I watch Bree peel off that tight dress in a frankly extremely sexy way, I should feel at least something.
She reveals a pretty pink bra and a thong.
Hot underwear on the gorgeous body of a girl I used to think I loved… yet I don’t even get a half-chub.
“Remember these?” Bree asks as she snaps the edge of her thong above her ass. “Cancun?”