Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“It’s okay, Harry, nobody wants to see you get your ass kicked.”
He disappears back into the kitchen with a laugh.
“Seriously though, I can take his table if you don’t want it,” Pam says earnestly. “He’s hot and helped you out and all, but I know that’s not always enough.”
I hesitate, looking over at Stellan. He’s not looking back. Instead, he’s hunched over his phone with his brows knit like something’s wrong.
Maybe it’s the look on his face. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s helping out people I care about without having to be asked. “No, it’s okay, I’ll handle it.” I grab a mug and the coffee pot and march over to where Stellan’s sitting.
He glances up. His face softens when he spots me looming over his table. God, I hate this bastard so much. He’s threatening to destroy me, and I believe he’ll really do it, all while giving everyone else an enormous gift.
The message is clear: do what I say and you can have all this too.
“Coffee,” I say, dropping the mug down with a rattle and filling it.
“I see that.”
“I have a fifteen-minute break in a couple of hours. If you’re still here, I’ll drink some coffee with you.”
“That’s not dinner.”
“It’s as close as you’re going to get.”
He pretends to think it over. “This won’t lower your rent.”
“Didn’t ask you to.”
“I’ll be here.”
“You don’t have anything better to do?”
“Not right now.”
I glare at him a moment longer, trying to figure out what this guy really wants from me, before marching off.
He’s a problem. Stellan’s much too rich and powerful. This whole bizarre blackmail courtship game makes zero sense. I feel like I’m caught in a trap and my only option is to gnaw my own leg off to escape.
True to his word, Stellan sticks around. I spend the next couple of hours ignoring him. The diner isn’t very busy and the minutes drag past. Finally, I tell Pam I’m taking my fifteen, drop my apron in the back near my locker, and march out to slide into the booth across from Stellan.
Pam wordlessly comes over, pours me some coffee, and walks off.
I stare at Stellan. He looks back with an amused smile. This man’s confidence is never rattled. Even when he has to know how much I want to kick him right in the smug little teeth.
“How’s a guy with the resources to buy an entire apartment building have the time to sit around in a dump like this?”
Stellan laughs. He turns his phone screen down and slides it away from him. I like that gesture. He’s trying to be present.
“I’m my own boss.”
“Seems strange though. Not sure what you’re getting out of it.”
“Time spent near you isn’t enough?”
“I’m not that interesting.”
“I disagree.”
“Why are you helping everyone back at the building?”
He tilts his head to the side questioningly. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“The improvements. Painting, railings, carpet, laundry, all that stuff.”
“The place is a piece of shit. I’m making it better.”
“But why? You lowered everyone’s rent. Who the hell does that?”
He takes a sip of his coffee and places it back down carefully. “Did you stop to consider that maybe the building isn’t about profit?”
“Yes, obviously I thought about that, but that only makes me wonder what the hell it’s really about.”
“You know what?” He stares at me, smile vanished. The intensity in his stare sends a whirlpool in my belly. I have to look away. “Have dinner with me.”
“If I do, will you raise the rent? You’ll have gotten what you wanted.”
“I don’t care about the building.”
“You’re dumping money into it, though.”
He sounds slightly frustrated, which is a surprise. “That’s all for you.”
I sit back. My hands shake when I lift the coffee mug to my lips. It’s hot, but I don’t care. I need the caffeine, and the heat helps wake me up.
All for me?
But that makes no sense.
“You’re trying to ruin my life. Don’t pretend like you’re fixing the building for me.”
“I’m trying to get you to have dinner with me. If I happen to help people in the process, what’s it matter?”
“Now you pretend like you actually are trying to do something good.”
“Whether I’m trying or not isn’t important. All that matters is the outcome of my actions.” He leans in closer. “Have dinner with me, Kira. Don’t make me raise your rent.”
“Tell me what you do for a living.”
He tilts his head. “My family owns parking lots.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s good business.”
“You don’t get apartment building money from parking lots.”
“Very good business.”
“You’re full of shit. What do you do for a living?”
He doesn’t respond. Only stares at me grimly, like he wants me to know but he can’t say the words out loud.
I’ve known men like him. Flashy men with nice cars and obscure professions. They’ve been universally terrible people.
Only Stellan genuinely seems different.