Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Are you ready to talk to her? Just call and cancel if you don’t want to go.” Colt backs me into my closet and starts nibbling on my neck.
“Stoooop,” I whine, pushing him away. “I need to do this before I chicken out.”
After talking to Roger, I’m more confident about talking to Mom. She’s not going to like what I have to say, but he was right. I don’t need her as my manager, not anymore. It made sense when I was thirteen, and maybe even when I was studying, but now? I’m a grown woman and my professional needs have changed. I haven’t told anyone else because I know what they’d say, but I’m willing to work out something financially so she won’t have to get another job. I just hope she’s willing to go along with it.
“How’s this?” I do a little spin, showing off my favorite green, summer dress. The one that brings out my eyes. It comes down to my calves, and looks cute with a jean jacket. “It should be okay for the bike, right? As long as I have a jacket and change shoes?”
He nods. “I’ll get you there safe and sound.”
The door panel buzzes. The doorman is calling from the lobby. “Hello? What’s up?”
“Hi, Ms. Callahan. We have a flower delivery for you down here.” Clarke must actually have a day off.
“Oh… um, I’m going out soon, can you send someone up with it?” I look at Colt, who shrugs and shakes his head. Huh.
I’m finishing my makeup when Colt goes to answer the door. He comes back carrying a vase with what must be three dozen roses of all shades of red and pink. I stand and bury my nose in them. “Pretty! Was there a card?”
“Don’t think so. Clarke brought them up. He said they were delivered anonymously.” Never mind. I guess he’s working after all.
Before this all started, I would’ve said Roger was the only one who would send me flowers, but now there are all sorts of options. Mom could be trying to buy my cooperation. Priest or Sinner maybe. Even Erika could’ve sent them.
“Red is for love, isn’t it?” I ask Colt.
“I think so. I’d love to take credit, but it wasn’t me.”
Oh well, I’ll figure it out later.
Colt drives me to the restaurant Mom picked. It’s a little north of the city, near the shore, and called the Sea Pearl. The breeze is a little chilly here, windier than in town. The parking lot is almost empty, which seems strange for the hour. It looks fancy too, nicer than she usually picks when it’s just the two of us and we have nobody to impress.
The main doors slide open. “Quinn! I’m so happy you came, baby. I know you were upset, and you had every right to be, but it’s been hard not talking to you.” Mom is all smiles.
“I just needed some time, that’s all. Maybe this was a good wake-up call. We’ve been needing to talk for a while.”
She nods and leans in closer. “Does he have to be here? Everything is okay now.”
“I hired them for two weeks. They insist.”
Mom sighs. “Fine, but come inside, I have a surprise.”
The maître d’ eyes Colt suspiciously. “This way.” He hesitates. “Perhaps the gentleman could be persuaded to wear a dinner jacket?”
A harsh laugh bursts out of Colt. “I’m gonna pass on that, man, but I can stay out of sight if it makes you happy.” He strokes a finger across the back of my hand, a tiny gesture to check in that makes me smile. “I’ll be right nearby.”
I nod. Having dinner with him would be way more fun, but this discussion is going to be hard enough on my own. If he’s there, it would just give Mom something else to be difficult about. Besides, I need to learn to stand up for myself. As much as I love the support, I won’t need bodyguards forever.
“Did we get an advance or something?” I whisper as we follow the maître d’.
“You’ll see.” For a moment her smile is genuine, and I get a glimpse of how she can be when she’s actually happy.
There’s a man waiting for us at our table. Dark haired, black-suited and with a very deliberate hint of black stubble on his jaw. He stands up as we arrive, flashing a predatory smile that gives me chills. What’s going on?
“Welcome. I’m so glad you could join us,” he says in a deep voice that might’ve been attractive if there wasn’t something odd about how he’s looking at me.
“Honey, this is Romero. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now, but everything’s been so busy that there never seemed to be a good time for you to meet. Romero, this is my daughter, Quinn.”