Neighbor From Hell Read Online Georgia Le Carre

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
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I lean against the counter, the edge biting into my hip. I swallow, my throat tight, and my voice low, shaky.

“I’m trying, Sandy, I’m really trying to think of options here, but when I came here, I gave up everything I had and knew. I sold my car, my furniture, everything I could so I could stay as long as possible without worrying about money.”

Sandy tilts her head, her voice brightening as she tries to lift me. “I know, so let’s look on the bright side. The land’s yours. You could sell it to him, and make sure to bleed him dry. Set the price as high as you want.” She grins, but it fades when she sees my face, the despair I can’t hide.

My fingers twist the towel agitatedly. “If he doesn’t buy it, then what? I don’t think Grandma had insurance. I’m ruined, Sandy. I might not even afford a flight back to the U.S. He fucked me over real good—literally and figuratively.”

Sandy’s face becomes fierce with loyalty. “I’m gonna help you, Lauren, as much as I can. Don’t worry, okay? You’re gonna be fine. You tried something and it didn’t work. So what? There’s no shame in that. You’re going to start again.”

“Okay,” I say. Her words are a lifeline, but they don’t erase the ache and the fear I feel. I glance at the clock. “Look, I need to go out and get some bread rolls for the soup. Annabel’s almost home, and the bakery closes soon. I’ll call you later.”

Sandy smiles, her voice warm, “Bye, sweetheart.”

The call ends, the screen going dark, leaving me alone with the hum of the fridge, the weight of my thoughts. I turn off the stove to let the soup’s heat fade, and slip on Annabel’s sneakers. Their soles are worn and the laces frayed, but it is currently my only option. I am lucky enough that we are the same size, both in clothing and shoes, so I really don’t have much to complain about.

The walk to the village is quick, the evening air cool, the cobblestone streets glowing under the village’s lamplights. The market square is bustling with late shoppers; their innocent chatter would have been something to enjoy if I didn’t feel so bad.

The scent of fresh bread and sugar wafts out as I push through the bakery door, the bell jingling. It’s almost closing time, and the shelves are quite empty. I look at the bread on display; sourdough, rye, granary—their crusts dark and powdery. Some of the cakes have been discounted too, and I decide to buy some tarts for dessert. I know Annabel loves their apple tart, and it will be a lovely surprise for her. For a moment, I let myself feel a flicker of joy, a whisper that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay. My bank card will arrive soon, and somehow, I’ll make it work. I reach for a sourdough loaf, its weight solid in my hands, and turn to the counter to ask for the tarts. Already my heart feels lighter.

“Lauren!” a voice calls.

And my stomach drops, the loaf nearly slipping from my grasp. I turn, frowning, and there she is—Cecilia, her horsey features pinched with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Hi,” she says, her voice syrupy, dripping with false sympathy. “I’ve been trying to reach you. How are things going now? Where are you staying?”

I stiffen. She, I am sure, is just fishing for gossip, and it is something that I cannot tolerate in my current mood.

“I’m okay, thank you,” I say, my voice flat, and move to step around her.

But she doesn’t budge, her eyes glinting, her tone sharpening. “How are things with you and Hugh? For once, I wish I wasn’t right all along. I should have tried harder to protect you. I’m so sorry about what happened to you.”

Her words sound good, but somehow, they feel like venom to me, rousing the doubts I’ve been wrestling with. I want to snap, to tell her to leave me alone, but I don’t. My lips are pressed tight and my anger stirring.

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I say, my voice low, and turn again, but she grabs my arm, her grip firm, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I understand, but you’re not going to let him get away with this, are you?”

I stare at her in amazement. This I did not expect.

“There’s a way to get back at him,” she says, her eyes gleaming. “Don’t sell the land to him. Hurt him instead.”

I freeze. “What do you mean?”

She steps closer, her breath hot, her words quick and urgent. “Big city developers might want your land. They’ve bought the adjacent plots, and I’m sure they’d pay more than Hugh, way more. He’s trying to lowball you, twist your arm, demoralize you, but these people don’t play dirty games. The best thing for you to do is to try and sell to them, and that way you’ll stick it to him. This is what you should do to get the best price for yourself. Trust me, after all his scheming and cunning, he’ll feel the burn and the pain like nothing else.”


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