Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“You didn’t have to come down to the station,” I say.
“And what would you have done about the fine?” he asks.
“I would’ve done my time in jail like a pro.”
Which is a lie. Chances are, I would’ve cried like a baby. Since I’ve been doing that a lot today.
Massimo chuckles, and I decide I like the way it sounds. In fact, today he seems a lot more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a while.
I look around the interior and wonder if it is the same car we kissed in on the night of Nico and Bella’s engagement party. It looks the same. Feels the same. I look over my shoulder to the back seat. Same buttery leather. Same gleaming chrome.
“You looking for something? Or just reminiscing?” he says with an evil twinkle in his eye.
“I’m working out my various escape routes.”
He grins and starts the engine. “Don’t bother, I’ve got the child lock on.”
I roll my eyes.
“Want to tell me what happened at Bentley’s?” he asks as he merges into traffic.
“No,” I say, a little more petulantly than I meant to because I’m embarrassed. And if I’m honest, I’m still a little hurt by how my friends could move on so easily and be so wonderfully happy without me. “I mean, it’s not fair, you know. One minute I have this great life with these great friends, and the next, I’m hiding from them behind this gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous, red silk Bianchon gown while they shop gleefully for the biggest event on the social calendar that guess what, I am no longer invited to.”
My emotions get the better of me, and I charge forward into my second meltdown of the day. Because life sucks big dog balls, and I don’t have the energy to stop it.
“And then some pinched-nose sales assistant gets all crotchety because I’m caressing this Bianchon gown like a lover, but it has this to-die-for red silk that’s as soft as a baby’s breath, and I haven’t felt anything as sweet and pure on my body in what feels like forever, and I couldn’t stop wishing I could just know what it feels like to wear. And I know there is so much worse going on in the world. But that was my world, and I don’t even know who I am outside of it. And that sales assistant hated me, Massimo, I could tell, from the moment she saw me she hated me, because I’m poor and friendless, and I fondle dresses I can’t afford.”
I let out a pathetic sob.
“Wow,” Massimo says. “No wonder you stole the scarf.”
I swing my tear-stained face to him and promptly start to cry in earnest.
“Oh sweet Jesus,” he whispers.
But he takes pity on me. “Your friends sound like bitches.”
Which cheers me up immensely.
“Want me to have them killed?” he asks.
“Thank you.” I sniff back tears and smile. “That’s so kind of you to offer. But I have better plans for them.”
“That sounds like revenge talking. Now I’m intrigued. What’s your evil plan, little monster?”
“I’m going to get my life back, Massimo. I’m going to land on my feet, and I won’t stop until I’m done.”
His amusement fades because he knows my determination is nothing to joke about. He knows Harrison is going to pay for what he did to me.
We’re both quiet for a moment—him because he’s concentrating on the traffic, and me because I’m thinking about all the things I’m going to do once I get my money back. First stop will be Bentley’s for that red dress. Second stop will be to show up at the Balboa Ball looking so fabulous my ex-friends will see just how magnificent and wonderful I am without them.
Even if it’s a lie right now. At least I’m breathing and relatively healthy. With a roof over my head and a job.
And not in prison.
I sneak a look at Massimo. It’s stupid to admit, but watching him drive is a turn-on. Hell, who am I kidding. Anything this guy does at this point is a turn-on.
But I’m not going to let him distract me from my goals.
Find Harrison.
Shoot him in the face.
Buy dress.
Make ex-friends green with envy.
They might seem frivolous to some, childish even, but at the moment, they’re all I’ve got.
I steal another glance at Massimo. His profile is perfect. Thick hair. Smooth forehead. Beautiful eyes. A nose people pay good money for, but one he was born with. The kind of cheekbones you only see on runway models. Full lips that know how to make a girl come in the back seat of your car as you pull her back and forward over your erection.
The memory roars out of the dark depths of my brain and spreads heat all over my body.
I remember that night as if it was yesterday.