Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Sorry, Ami,” Emma says. “It’s just… What else should I call him? That’s a pretty weird thing to do.”
“When we kissed, it felt special,” I tell her, my cheeks burning.
I should wait until I’m back at the house to discuss this, but I have to get it out and work out what’s happening.
“I just googled him. Thomas Tithing. Tall, gray hair—”
“Silver hair,” I cut in.
She laughs, not unkindly. It’s more like she’s confused by my correction. “Silver, gray, what’s the difference?”
The difference is that gray implies old, but Thomas doesn’t seem old to me. He’s over twice my age, but he’s not old. He’s ripped and powerful, with a fierce glint in his eyes that hints at his youthfulness.
“Yeah, that’s him,” I say, ignoring her question.
The noise in the background gets quieter. Then wind rushes as though Emma has just stepped outside.
“It says he’s worth fifty-two billion dollars.”
“Emma,” I say, my breath coming quicker.
“What?”
“I don’t care about the money.”
“I’m just saying, at forty-two, that’s quite the fortune.”
I don’t point out that it would be a fortune at any age. That he’s forty-two is more interesting to me, more than twice my age. Would he ever want a nineteen-year-old?
“Come on, Ami,” she goes on. “How can you not care about it? He’s richer than rich. This is crazy. Does he want to date or hook up or what?”
At the phrase hook up, a shard of nervousness stabs into me. Emma knows how inexperienced I am, but I don’t let her see the anxiety this sometimes provokes in me. It’s easier to present that boss-bitch, don’t-give-a-damn energy.
“I don’t know. He kissed me and then left. He also said he couldn’t stay away. That’s why he was at the house.”
“How did he even get your address?”
“I guess from Realization. He probably has access to the files or whatever.”
“Isn’t that like gross misconduct or something?”
“Maybe I should sue him.”
We both laugh at that, and then Emma gets serious. “So, what will you do if you see him again?”
“What do you think? I’m out of my depth here.”
“It depends on what you want. Do you want to hook up with a billionaire or prefer something serious? Clearly, you’ve got the hots for him.”
“How is it clear?”
“Silver, not gray. That told me everything I needed to know. You’ve got a crush.”
It feels like way more than a crush. It feels like I’ve been waiting for this man without even knowing it.
“I guess I should figure out what he wants with me,” I murmur. “I don’t get how he even knew to show up at my place, and you’re right. If this were anybody else, I’d say it was creepy.”
“But he’s hot, so it’s not?”
“It’s not just that,” I murmur.
“What, then?”
I don’t know how to explain this to her, the certainty that struck me as soon as I looked out of my window and saw him. The ache in my chest when I think about the kiss, reliving it, the texture of his lips, the promise of the future…
Heck, what am I thinking? The future?
“I don’t know,” I say. “Listen, I’m sorry. I have to go.”
After we say goodbye, I pocket my phone and try not to think about Thomas, but I can’t stop. Even if he stormed out like the world’s biggest douche, I wish he was here.
When I get home, something terrible has happened. Janine is standing out front, a bucket of water at her feet, rubbing at the window with a sponge. She’s only cleared away one letter, so I can read the rest of the red-lettered message.
Tommy is a liar.
CHAPTER SIX
Thomas
I run laps on the private track, Loki at my side, the slip-on leash loose around his neck. Initially, while training the little terror, I’d sometimes have to tighten it. Not a lot, but it takes discipline to use a slip leash, just enough to tell him he needs to calm down.
Now trained, I can take off the leash and have him run beside me unassisted, but he likes the leash. He’ll bring it to me when I start putting on my running trainers, dangling it from his mouth. Maybe he likes feeling restrained. It makes him feel safe.
I should take the advice. Maybe tell my head of security, Steve, to restrain me the next time I tell him I’m driving out to Amelia’s house. Goddamn, that kiss.
I stop running when the timer sounds, hands on my hips, breathing in the cool early-summer air. Loki pants, rolling onto his side, and I sit on the track next to him, stroking my hand up and down his back.
“Good work, boy,” I tell him, slipping the leash off.
He whines, nuzzling my leg, then climbs into my lap and curls into a ball.
“What’s up?”
He’s rarely like this. Sometimes, if there are fireworks, he’ll whine and burrow away someplace but not after a run. It’s like he can sense my mood, my desperate hunger, calling me to her apartment.