Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“Didn’t look like nothing. What’s going on with you, Ezra? You’re distracted at the moment, you never go home…”
Whatever he replies I don’t hear because we hit some mild turbulence and the plane starts to rattle.
Turbulence doesn’t bother me so long as I distract myself, I’m used to it for the most part. We travel so much it’s inevitable.
I touch my fingers to my lips, still unable to believe that he kissed me.
He actually kissed me, and I said no.
I’m stronger than I thought.
We all return to our seats and buckle in, I’m annoyed when Mr. Conti takes the seat next to me as the plane gets a bit rocky. He straps in around the middle and reaches over to give my belt a tug. That’s something he does every time. It must be a habit but right now I don’t want his hands on me.
“I have it, thanks.”
“Can we talk?”
“No.”
“Rose, I——”
I look at him in the eyes, giving him a stern appraisal. “I said, no. I don’t ever want to talk about that.”
“I was angry, and hurting, and I’d just had an argument with my wife——”
My jaw hits the floor and my eyes widen. So I was just a filler while he dealt with his emotions?
“Shouldn’t have gone for that pitch,” Robert mutters from the seats behind us.
I’m guessing he knows Mr. C kissed me or tried to.
“Shut up, Robert,” he seethes and looks at me again. “I don’t want anything from you, Rose. I was just… hurting and you were there. I’m sorry. I should have had more respect for you than that.”
“Can we stop talking about this now? God. This is… this just… Fuck. No.” I unbuckle my seat angrily, grumbling under my breath about stupid men, as my cheeks heat from the embarrassment of this situation.
“If you move seats, I’m just going to follow you,” he points out, smiling with mischief.
I buckle myself back in, smacking at his hands when he tries to tighten it and check how safe it is. My cheeks are aflame, and my eyes fiery.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, placing his hand on mine. “Don’t quit.” His thumb rolls over the back of my hand. “Please. Can we just pretend it didn’t happen? I love my wife, you know this, you know I’d never purposely hurt her.”
I want to ask him what would have happened if I’d kissed him back. I want to ask him would he have followed me back to his hotel room or mine? Would we have fucked and ruined everything we’ve worked for?
Instead, I don’t reply, I play on my phone and the turbulence finally clears. He doesn’t move, nor does he let go of my hand and I relax, letting him hold it for a while. It’s the only guilty pleasure I’ll allow myself when it comes to him.
I’ve got to really watch myself around him now, another stress I just don’t need. Ugh. Why did he have to kiss me? Why did he have to take that step?
I leave them at LAX when we touch down, getting a cab on company dime back home but what I find has me shrieking and almost vomiting.
My car tires have all been let down, my car that was only repaired a few days ago. Acid has been poured all over the glossy paintwork and the word whore has been written on the hood.
My house is no different. My door has the scarlet letter A and my windows have all been sprayed with vile words. Insults. Despicable insults.
I take pictures using my phone, my hands tremble making the photos blurry. I try to calm down to get clearer images but it’s hard.
Tears blur my vision, angry fucking enraged tears. I’m so mad. How dare he?
I unlock the entrance door and stomp to my apartment. The door isn’t damaged, but he could have broken in elsewhere. I’m careful when I enter, crouching down just in case he tries to grab me, but once inside I realize nothing has been touched and nobody is here.
I’m trembling so rapidly my teeth are chattering.
“Hey, Rose?” My upstairs neighbor pushes the door I left open. “I called the police when I saw it this morning. They came out and told me to tell you to give them a call as soon as you get back. They’re checking local surveillance, but I doubt they’ll catch whoever it was. I have the details you need.”
I wipe my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Betty. I don’t know why this is happening.”
“I know. It’s not your fault. Some people are just seriously disturbed. You should consider staying somewhere else for a while. You’re obviously not safe here.”
“I think you might be right,” I breathe, sniffling.
She wraps her arms around me, giving me an awkward, brief, yet comforting hug. “It’ll get better. He’ll move on eventually. Is there anyone I can call for you?”