Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Earlier, we’d stopped at a vet. Leo had been scrubbed down until his coat smelled faintly like oatmeal and disinfectant. He’s gotten shots, a checkup, the whole nine yards. The verdict is that he’s underfed but otherwise healthy. I didn’t even know vets gave baths, but then, Justice has a way of bending the world until it gives him what he wants.
We picked up food. The good kind, the stuff that costs more than I usually spend on groceries for myself. We also walked Leo on a thin strip of grass by the parking lot, a scrap of normal life tucked into a day that was anything but. That moment had lodged in me, stubborn and dangerous.
Dogs don’t belong in apartments. Not big ones like Leo. He needs space, dirt under his paws, and a fence to patrol. I’ll have to buy a safe house with a yard, and soon. Assuming I live long enough to go house hunting.
I kept my gratitude locked tight back at the vet’s office. I didn’t gush. Didn’t thank Justice more than politeness required because I’m freaking the hell out. Why would he let me keep the dog? He couldn’t be so much of an asshole that he’d use the animal against me, could he? Did I just take on a weakness?
I hope not but won’t bet on it.
Now, in the elevator, the silence is thick.
Leo tugs on the leash, and I loosen my hold. He pads over and sits on Justice’s foot, panting happily.
Justice looks down. “What are you doing?”
I swear, the dog smiles. Actually smiles and then nudges Justice’s knee with his nose. Pure adoration.
Justice just looks confused.
As am I. Dogs are supposed to have good instincts when it comes to people.
Men like Justice don’t keep things, or people.
The elevator opens, and I brace myself for cold chrome and hard edges. Power on display.
Instead, warmth spills around me.
The penthouse is wide and bright, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a glittering sprawl of Silicon Valley. The sofa is cloth—cloth, not leather—deep brown with throw pillows that look like someone actually uses them. The coffee table is mahogany, polished but cluttered with books. Not business manuals. Not glossy magazines. Books with cracked spines and bent corners.
I edge closer. Mysteries. Christie, Grafton, newer names I don’t know. Dog-eared. Read and reread. My chest tightens, because the last thing I expected here was comfort.
Justice says nothing. He just turns down a hallway with that lethal grace of his, not checking if I follow. Of course I do. My shoes whisper against the floor—wood, thick and knotted, glowing like it’s been burnished by fire. Not marble. Not slate. Not cold.
Who is this man?
He opens a set of double doors, and the suite beyond is lovely. A king bed dominates the room, the navy cover thick and inviting, accents scattered through the room in the same deep blue. But it’s the stones that catch me.
Garnets. Everywhere. Set into the chandelier, the drawer pulls, the handles of the dresser. Their deep red glows in the light, dark fire staring back at me. My pulse stutters. Of course he surrounds himself with them.
Another glimmer catches my eye. A heavy clock on the dresser, sleek black stone. “Onyx?” I ask, leaning closer.
“Obsidian,” Justice answers, voice like low velvet.
I step back quickly, and he gestures toward two side doors. Does he also have a connection to obsidian? That makes me shiver. I don’t know why.
He points to a wide double door across the room. “Closet. I’ll have clothes brought for you. Bathroom’s the other one. There’s a tub. For you. Not the dog.”
The corner of his mouth twitches in almost a smile. Almost.
“I hadn’t planned on scrubbing him again,” I mutter, crossing my arms.
“I’ll have his food and dishes sent up. Keep them in the bathroom. Not my kitchen.”
“Fine,” I say, maybe too quickly. Truth is, I like Leo close. He’s pressed against my side now, brown eyes soft but wary. He keeps glancing around like he’s waiting for the world to collapse. I know the feeling.
I glance back at Justice. He hasn’t moved from the doorway. What game is he playing? “Justice. Why am I here?” Besides the explicit remark earlier. I do not look at the bed. Yeah, he’s hot. Deadly sexy. But I have to keep my brain intact.
“You’re here because you created a deadly computer virus that infected our garnets and my brother. Get the dog settled and then come out. We haven’t eaten. We’ll talk while we do.”
Leo jumps up on the bed, circles twice, and flops onto the duvet. His sigh is so heavy it ruffles the covers. I wait for Justice to order him off, but he doesn’t. Not even a glance. That rattles me more than if he’d snapped.
I pat Leo’s head and whisper, “Good boy.” My hand lingers longer than it should. Then I straighten. “I’ll be out in a minute.” I seriously doubt there are any weapons to find in here.