Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
"Yup. That's what Daddy says."
"Well then. You're allowed."
"Yay."
"Go back to your game, and I'll bring your sandwich and a glass of milk up to your room."
His eyes widen. "Really? I’m allowed to eat in my room?”
“You’re on vacation, right?”
“Right,” he says, rubbing his little palms together.
“Well then… off you go.”
“Thanks, Aunt Amelia," he yells as he runs up the stairs.
I watch him go, then carry the vase to the dining room. I set it on the walnut table, and the flowers are a bright burst against the polished wood. The house is quiet again, the summer sun filtering through the open windows, and it is beyond peaceful. I head to the kitchen and make Jason’s sandwich. I pour a glass of milk and take his lunch up to his room.
I put Jason’s lunch next to him, and he is so engrossed in his game, he mumbles his thanks and reaches for his sandwich without taking his eyes off his screen.
I think of Max as I close Jason’s door and walk down the hallway. I miss him so terribly, it's like a physical ache. The studio is a haven with sunlight pouring through the tall windows, bathing the bookshelves and easel in a golden glow. The air smells of turpentine and old leather. My dragon painting waits, its emerald scales shimmering. I pick up a brush and dip it into a blend of green and yellow. My strokes are bolder today, each one infused with the joy pulsing through me, the memory of Max’s hands, his lips, his love.
The newly growing dragon’s wings take shape, no longer grounded but soaring.
The colors I notice are richer and more vivid than before—hopeful and defiant. This makes me happy because fused with this new energy, I just might be able to meet my deadline in two weeks.
With that in mind, I work faster, my brush moving with urgency, my agent’s email lying quiet in the back of my mind. When exhaustion creeps in, I am satisfied with the work I have done and set the brush down, and stumble to the chaise lounge by the window. Its deep blue velvet is cool and inviting. I sink gratefully into it. The fabric is soft against my arms and legs, and the sunlight warms my face like a gentle caress. Curling my sundress under me, my mind drifts to Max’s voice saying, “I love you, Amelia”.
It makes me smile. Soon, the room fades, the bookshelves blur, and my dragon’s eyes watch me as I slip into sleep.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
MAX
The conference room feels like a trap. I’m slouched in my chair, tie half-undone, fingers tapping restlessly on the table. Tom’s going on about Q3 projections, his voice a dull buzz, slides flashing numbers. My team’s watching, waiting for me to weigh in, but my head’s elsewhere—back home, with Amelia.
Her green eyes burn into me as she moans softly.
My chest tightens with a wild ache that won’t quit. Two weeks. Two damn weeks. That’s all I have to be with her, to drown in her. And yet, I’m stuck here, wasting time. My jaw clenches, frustration simmering, my pants are too tight with the memory of her hands, her lips, her...
It’s too warm in here. I should ask them to turn up the air con.
The clock says 12:17 p.m., and every tick is a jab, reminding me I shouldn’t be here. Lisa’s scribbling notes, glancing my way, probably wondering why I’m checked out. I don’t care. I should be home, lost in her, instead, I’m here.
Tom’s voice snaps me back. “Max, you good with this timeline?” His eyes pin me, expectant.
I force a nod, voice rough. “Yeah, it’s fine. Run it.” He hesitates, but I’m already up, chair gliding away.
“Uh, boss, I thought we could-”
“Send an email or something,” I tell him. “I’ve got somewhere to be.” I’m out of the room before anyone can stop me.
Lisa comes after me. “Sir?”
I stop to speak to her. “I’m going to be working remotely for the next two weeks,” I say, keeping it short. “If anything needs signing of my immediate attention, send it to the house, okay?”
She blinks, surprised, but nods. “Understood, Sir. Anything else I should know about?”
“Nope.” I get moving. The elevator ride’s too slow, each ding a drag, but I’m buzzing, alive with the thought of her. Amelia. A stray thought flashes into my mind. She’s your half-sister. Immediately, I push that thought down and let the want take over. I need her, need these two weeks to burn into me, guilt be damned.
The SUV’s engine roars as I peel out. The city blurs past—people, towers… Traffic glints under a hazy sun. I’m driving a bit too fast, weaving through cars, my hands tight on the wheel. But I truly can’t wait to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice.