Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
“Oh?”
“And…I-I think she may have figured out I have feelings for someone else.”
“Ohhhh.”
I glanced up, and Cheryl was staring at me with the expression of a starving cat that’d just been given a bowl of cream.
“I just wish she was out of my life so I could move on with…” I dropped my head again, hoping she interpreted the action as hiding a blush. If she bought this shit, then I’d missed my calling in Hollywood. Inspiration struck, and I added, “She even showed up at my house today.”
Cheryl struggled to stand, nearly falling over once she was on her feet, then wobbled over to my desk. Obviously, she wasn’t used to wearing shoes like that, and it only reminded me how fucking gorgeous and elegant Samantha was when she walked in her fuck-me heels.
I resisted the urge to move away when Cheryl sat on the corner of my desk and placed her hand on mine. “If you can’t move on unless she’s out of the way, I’ll take care of her,” she crooned as if she was saying something sexy rather than offering to get rid of the woman I loved.
I didn’t look up for fear that she’d see the disgust in my eyes. “How?”
Cheryl scooted closer, and her cloying perfume nearly choked me. “Easy. I’ll just cut the brakes to her car. But first, let me show you how good we are together. Fuck me, James.”
She started to lunge for me, but no way in hell was I going to let her get that close. I gagged as I shoved my chair back and jumped to my feet, and she ended up falling onto the floor instead of my lap. “Get out!” I roared. “Don’t come near Samantha or me ever again, or I swear on my life, I will end you.”
Cheryl stared up at me, stunned at first, then her expression clouded with rage, and she kicked off her shoes so she could scramble to her feet.
I had no damn clue how she’d managed to hide a gun in her skintight getup, but the next thing I knew, I was staring down the barrel of one. “If I can’t have you, no one can,” she snarled as her finger curled around the trigger.
Donovan came running into the room the second Cheryl had whipped out the pistol, but she fired wildly before he could take her down. I heard the bullet whizz past me and dropped to the ground to avoid being hit by a stray.
“I’ll kill you!” Cheryl screamed as Donovan wrestled the gun away from her. “I’ll kill you and that bitch Samantha!”
Finally, Donovan subdued the insane woman while Phin secured the gun.
She continued to scream obscenities and threats as they dragged her out of the office.
I snatched my phone from the desk and called Tucker. “Did you get it?”
“Every minute,” he confirmed.
There were already security cameras in my office, but I didn’t want to wear a wire, and video was more convincing, so we installed enough to catch every nook and cranny of the office.
“You better not be hurt!” I heard Samantha shout in the background, and I barked out a laugh.
“It should be enough to make a few charges stick,” Tucker continued. “But if we run into a snag, Dad dug up some information on her. Her name is actually Michelle Novanik. She’s been in and out of trouble since she was fourteen. He found enough shit that combined with these tapes, she’ll be out of your hair for good.”
Relief trickled through me, and I asked to speak to Samantha.
“You’re not hurt?” she clarified.
“No, baby. But I’m ready to take you home and start our life together. How does that sound?”
“I like it,” she sighed. “But I reserve the right to yell at you about this later. If I feel like it.”
“Absolutely. Whatever you need to do. Just know that no matter what you do or say, you’re never getting rid of me again.”
13
SAMANTHA
Knowing how close James had come to being shot had cooled my anger at him over being kept in the dark. The thought of losing him forever put everything in perspective for me…although I’d warned him during the ride back to the house that he’d never hear the end of it if he ever tried something like that again.
When we got home—and I truly did consider his Winnetka house to be my home now—he led me directly upstairs and into his bathroom. His broad back muscles stretched underneath his dress shirt as he bent over the large, jetted tub.
“What are you doing?” I took a step closer, my bare feet relishing the feel of the heated floor tiles.
“I know how much you appreciate a long bath,” he explained, his back to me as he scooped out bath salts and oils, pouring them into the bubbling water. “This is the best tub in the house, and I got some girly stuff so you could have the whole experience. After all the shit that’s happened and having to make the drive down here, the least I can do is give you what you like.”