Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
I didn’t wait for him to come back. The second I pulled myself together, I packed my suitcase in a frenzy, snuck out of the hotel like a thief in the night, and caught the earliest flight back to Seattle. Since I’ve landed, my phone has been a battlefield. Dante called me eleven times, texted me six. I didn’t answer either. In fact, I muted his name, flipped the phone face down, and when that didn’t work, well, I blocked his number, and now I’m cowered in my apartment like a fugitive hiding from the law.
The thought strikes me with the same force a cold bucket of water would. I stand up, walk over to the window, stare out at the Seattle sky, and of course, the sun would pick that time to shine through the glass. The diamond sparkles, another reminder of the weekend.
“I’m Alexandria Renee Holland,” I say aloud, my voice timid at first. Then I give it some weight. If I can’t convince myself, how am I going to convince anyone else? “I don’t hide.” I built a life here, spent years working my ass off to become a respected executive assistant, a woman who is in complete control of her own destiny. I’m not going to run from a billionaire with dark eyes, dangerous smirks, and panty-dropping dirty words no matter how good he looks shirtless.
“I don’t hide,” I reiterate, even firmer this time, my jaw setting with sheer determination. “And besides that, I need to talk to Dante and get this damn marriage annulled.” I march back to the chair, snatch my phone from the table, and just as I’m about to unblock his number and call him, I think better of it. If I’m going to fix it, it’s going to be face to face. I only need to make sure that when I see him again, I don’t forget how to breathe. How hard could that be?
CHAPTER TWO
dante
The tension in my body radiates from my jaw to my fists as the dark glass on my phone screen stares back at me.
Alexandria: Message undeliverable.
I tap the icon to call her. No ring. No voicemail. Just a flat voice on the other end of the line that says, “The person you are trying to reach is unavailable at this time.” It tells me everything I need to know. I have a younger sister, and when she’s in a stint of annoyance, the brat will block a friend, a family member, or even me at times.
The fiery little imp I’ve put my ring on not even forty-eight hours ago hasn’t just run out on me in the middle of the day—she blocked my number.
A low, dark laugh rumbles in my chest, completely devoid of humor. Alexandria Holland—well, Lombardi, if you want to get technical—really thinks a blocked number and a few miles are going keep me from her. She has my ring, let me taste every inch of her soft body, and then vanished before I made it back to hotel room after my meeting.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, sliding the phone into the pocket of my pants. I grab my jacket and head for the mahogany elevator doors of my penthouse foyer when the phone rings on the wall. I pause, tossing my keys into my palm, then hit the speaker. “Yes, Marcus?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lombardi,” the doorman’s crisp, polite voice comes through the line. “Pardon the interruption, sir, but there’s a young woman down here at the desk. She’s… well, she’s quite insistent, claims she needs to see you immediately.” I lift an eyebrow. Marcus knows my sister, and she’s on the approved list and wouldn’t need to be stopped.
“Does she have a name?” I ask.
“Ah, yes, her name is Alex, sir.” There’s a brief pause followed by a muffled sound of what seems to be a fierce debate on the other end of the line. “She says it’s urgent.” A low, dangerous smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth. I lean against the wall. Satisfaction settles in my bones. Looks like she couldn’t stay away after all.
“Send her up,” I command smoothly.
“Right away, Mr. Lombardi.”
“Oh, and, Marcus?” I add, my voice dropping into a stern, non-negotiable tone that leaves zero room for interpretation. “Log her into the system. Give her unrestricted access to the building, the penthouse, my private elevator, and a parking spot next to mine. Keycard, biometric, whatever she needs.”
“Understood, sir,” Marcus replies without hesitation. “Updating the security protocol as we speak.” I can hear him clicking away on the keyboard.
“Thank you.” I cut the line, step back into the expansive entry hall of my place, and drop my jacket onto a nearby bench, toss my keys onto the side table, and plant myself squarely in front of the private elevator doors.
I wait with my feet planted shoulder-width apart, heavy and rooted to the floor. My arms are crossed over my chest, the fabric of my black dress shirt straining against my shoulders. The soft ding of the lift signals her arrival. The heavy doors slide open with a mechanical hiss.