Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Respect.
Fear.
Those were… interesting descriptors.
They definitely weren’t the ones you would typically use to describe a businesswoman of any sort.
“She’s a good soul,” she went on. “Don’t let neighborhood gossip convince you otherwise. It’s not easy around here for a woman. A girl’s gotta do whatever it takes.”
I felt like I was missing something really vital. But no one seemed to want to give me direct answers.
“Anyway. Here you go,” she said, passing me back my card and the canvas tote I’d grabbed while following her around. “Can I just say, it is the absolute dream to find a man who will read with you. Saff is a lucky woman. She deserves it,” she added.
“She’s pretty amazing,” I agreed. “Thanks for all your help.”
“Anytime,” she said.
I made my way back outside, feeling even more confused than a few moments before.
I was so lost in my own thoughts that I almost missed her.
But, sure enough, there she was a block away, back to me. There was no mistaking her. The petite frame. The body I now knew every inch of.
Memories flooded my mind, needing to be tamped back down so I didn’t get distracted.
The one thing that was very different about the Saff in front of me right then, though, was that her hair was fully blue. Like she’d washed whatever temporary dye she’d had on out completely.
I was about ready to try to discreetly follow her, see if I could figure out what she was up to around Brooklyn to get the reputation she seemed to have, when she suddenly bent down as a dog came up toward her, all wiggles.
And as she leaned down to pet it, the back of her shirt rode up, exposing something that had my spine straightening.
A gun in a holster on her waistband.
I ducked down the side street, needing more than ever not to be caught creeping around behind her.
Not because I thought she’d shoot me or anything like that.
I needed some time to get my thoughts together, to try to come up with any reasonable explanation for everything I’d heard and seen.
Sure, this was New York. And, yes, gun laws were understandably strict. But strict didn’t mean there weren’t people around carrying.
Hell, if I was her size, I’d want to be walking around with every weapon possible.
Respected.
Feared.
Psycho.
Crazy bitch.
Stay away. Stay far the fuck away.
I happened upon Calvin parked outside of a juice place, sipping on an extra-large shake as he rocked out to some song on the stereo that I wouldn’t even pretend to know.
“Oh, Mr. Vale,” Calvin said, halting as the door slammed when I slid into the back. “Sorry, I—”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Take me home,” I said, leaning back against the seat with a sigh. “No, turn it back on,” I said when he lowered the music.
“You sure?”
“Please.”
Maybe if it was loud enough, it could drown out the hurricane thoughts spinning in my mind.
No matter what, they always came back to that same warning.
Stay away. Stay far the fuck away.
But as I made my way back into my apartment, setting the books on the nightstand, and smelling her strawberry sweet cream scent all over my sheets, I was pretty sure it was going to be impossible to stay away from her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Saff
I hadn’t returned the drop key to the doorman.
I had it in my fist and told myself the whole ride down that I was going to leave it there because I knew my pride would never allow me to ask for it a second time.
But the next thing I knew, I was moving out onto the sidewalk, my thumb teasing over the pigeon key charm.
Annoyed by my weakness, I rushed toward the closest subway platform, ignoring the growing sad sensation spreading through my chest.
At what?
Leaving a man’s apartment after some mutually enjoyable fun?
I scoffed out loud at that.
Mutually enjoyable.
That was the understatement of the year.
That man cracked open the world and sent me flying amongst the stars.
Dramatic? Yes. Cheesy? Oh, absolutely.
But true regardless.
I got back to my apartment, stripped, and climbed in the shower to scrub the scent of him off me.
Even scrubbed red, I could swear I still felt his touch all over me.
As I dressed, strapped on a gun so I could go play bagman for the family in an attempt to distract myself, I was starting to worry that I would always feel him. Like he was scorched, branded into my skin.
“God, get a grip,” I grumbled at my reflection before hitting the streets.
It helped to be distracted.
Going in and out of businesses, collecting the protection money owed to us. It was a job typically reserved for soldiers, not capos. But every once in a while, I liked to get my face out there, remind everyone who they were dealing with.
That said, by midday, there was no one else to hit up, nothing for me to do, since Renzo had all but benched me, wanting me to focus on the nightclub situation.