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)
Where I read to her until she fell asleep.
Setting the book on the nightstand, I turned out the light, then pulled Saff into my arms.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Saff
There were rules.
I mean, there were supposed to be rules right from the beginning. Namely, not screwing my business partner—and screwing up my whole life.
But I quickly realized how impossible that was.
So I set up a few new rules.
No overnights.
But when that got squashed by the promise of challah bread French toast—which may or may not have been worth my entire life potentially falling apart—I had to go back to the drawing board.
That’s when I came up with the new rules.
Number one: no back-to-backs.
I could sleep over if I wanted to. But only for one night. Then the next night, I had to be in my own bed.
Number two: no keeping things at his house.
Once I retrieved the two bras and one pair of panties he’d had cleaned and stashed away for me, I made sure I never left any clothes behind. Though, I did make an exception when it came to the book we were both reading together.
Number three: no texting or calling unless it had to do with the nightclub.
Number four: no talking about the future. There was no future. This thing had an expiration date. It had to.
And, finally, number five: if he ever says the word ‘love,’ I had to run. Hide. Scorched earth.
This was not about love.
It was just physical.
Even if each time I saw him, the more I wanted to see him. Even if I started to tell him things about my childhood, about my life on the streets, that not even my closest friends knew.
I told him so much that it started to get harder and harder to remember how much I couldn’t tell him.
Hell, I even felt bad about the lies that were stacking. So much so that I was worried I might accidentally make it all topple over.
Worse yet, he watched me as I quickly lied about building my business, about how I acquired the abandoned club on a song, and I swear I saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
But disappointed about what?
Could he know it was a lie?
Was he upset that I continued to perpetuate it?
No.
No, I couldn’t let myself go there.
I was being careful.
Or, at least, convincing.
Though now that he’d seen me damn near every day for two weeks in my usual jeans and leggings and tees, I wasn’t sure how convincing I was in my stupid black slacks and black silk blouse with my hair pulled back in a low pony that made me feel like a founding father.
But when I was visiting Soren’s office, I had to look the part of Saff Amato, businesswoman. Not the girl who was enthusiastically—and sometimes gymnastically—screwing her partner.
I resisted the urge to tug at my collar as the doors slid open to the floor.
There was Teresa, looking much more natural in a similar outfit—though hers was in an elevated beige color—than I ever could.
“Miss Amato,” she greeted me. “Nice to see you again.”
I wasn’t entirely convinced she meant that.
A tingle moved up my spine.
But even as I racked my brain, I couldn’t think of a single reason she would be disingenuous. I mean, I hadn’t even seen her in weeks.
Maybe I was just being suspicious, seeing and hearing things that weren’t there.
“You too. I’m late again, aren’t I?”
“You’re on time. They were early,” she said, nodding toward the conference room where Soren and our lawyers were waiting. “Just between you and me, leave it to a man to miss an entire folder that was sitting right in front of him, right?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
Soren and I needed to be back at the office because his attorney had somehow accidentally forgotten to get us to sign an entire folder of paperwork that had to do with the club.
“And for his female assistant to be the one to notice,” I agreed.
“I know that’s right. I’ll grab you a coffee,” she said as we parted at the doorway.
Seeing me, Soren rose to his feet. And the lawyers were quick to do so before Soren could scold them again.
Soren glanced at me, his gaze tracking down my body. When his eyes made it back to my face, the light was dancing in them and a smile was hiding in the corners of his mouth. Like he knew how much I hated my outfit. Like he agreed it didn’t suit me.
“Miss Amato,” he greeted me, holding out a hand to the chair beside him.
“Again, I’m very sorry about all this,” Soren’s lawyer said, looking appropriately uncomfortable at his blunder as he passed paperwork to Soren. “This should be over quickly.”
Soren reached for his pen to sign, but his free hand slid under the table to rest on my knee.