Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Yeah. We’ll find them.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, making my way out.
I made my way down to the street but paused next to my car, leaning against it as a wave of grief, confusion, anger, and helplessness overcame me.
I let myself have a minute.
Then I got in my car and drove to the boss’s house.
CHAPTER FOUR
Blair
A headache was hammering behind my eyes when the pounding at the apartment door started.
“Ugh.” I rolled out of bed, feeling paper-dry from the inside out.
I reached for the glass decanter on the nightstand, pouring the contents into the matching glass and greedily taking a drink as I made my way out of the bedroom and down the hall.
The last thing I needed after yet another night of crying was to deal with someone at my door, so I was pretty much planning on checking to see who it was then pretending I wasn’t home.
Admittedly, the only reason I was checking at all was that some pathetic part of me was hoping it might be Nico Costa.
As I narrowed in on the peephole, though, I knew it was a pipe dream. It had been six days since the funeral. There’d been no sign of Nico.
Of course there hadn’t been.
If there was one bitter reality pill I’d needed to swallow in my life, it was that I was—and always would be—on my own.
Leaning in, I peered out.
Not Nico.
Ronny. With her sisters and Matthew’s brother.
I closed my eyes and carefully stepped away from the door, praying they wouldn’t see my shadow.
“This is why I told Matty I needed a key. But, no. Miss Hoity-Toity wouldn’t let him get another keycard or key.”
Because I knew what it would mean if I’d given his family access. They would barge in uninvited. They would be hanging around with their shoes on my nice couch, sweaty drinks on my coffee table, food being dropped on my light-colored rug. And they would never know when to leave.
Matt and I had argued about it a dozen times in our short marriage. But it was one of the few things I dug my heels in on.
“Danny, do you think you could pick this lock?” Ronny asked, making me sigh.
There was a keyhole under the card reader for things like dead batteries on the reader. So, yeah, Danny probably could pick it. But he would also set off my alarm. Which would trigger a call from my security agency, so the police didn’t head over.
And, worst of all, the Ferraros would know I’d been pretending not to be home.
With a sigh, I reached for the locks as I heard scratching on the card reader as Danny got to work. He did know what he was doing. He’d been a petty thief his whole life. He’d only recently gotten out of prison from his last run-in with the law.
“Well, finally,” Ronny said as the door slid open. Her gaze moved over me, making me suddenly self-conscious about my silk tank and shorts set.
I crossed my arms over my chest when Danny’s gaze slipped to my breasts, which weren’t overly hidden beneath the champagne-colored material.
“That’s what you wear to bed when your husband is still warm in the grave?” Ronny sniffed.
Matching sets were the only pajamas I owned. But there was no reason to tell Ronny that. She’d judge me either way.
“Hey, Ronny. Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, you can move out of the way so I can come in and go through my son’s things.”
“What?”
“His things. I need to go through them.”
“Why?”
“Well, someone has to do it, don’t they?”
She’d said something similar about the funeral arrangements. She’d been so bossy about it that I’d just handed the task over to her. Which, of course, only gave her more ammunition to use against me. She can’t even be bothered to arrange her husband’s funeral.
“I will be going through them,” I told her. “As you said, it has only been a few days. I haven’t been ready yet.”
“Well, I’m ready.”
With that, one of her sisters shoved her body into the door, knocking me back as the door jammed my arm.
I’d just wrapped my head around the pain in my arm when they all barged their way inside, making their way down the hallway.
Danny tracked lightly muddy shoe prints the whole way.
At least it wasn’t on my rug, I guess.
“Makes a living hanging pictures on the wall but has none at her own home?” I heard one of Ronny’s sisters murmur as she walked down the hall.
I breathed out hard through my nose, counting backward from ten.
The Ferraro family—Matthew included—never did understand my original career path, let alone how it evolved.
When I met Matthew, I’d been working as a curator at The Halberstam Gallery. While also working on a fun side project: an online social media platform and blog about art that I’d named “The Tenth Muse.”