Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
I didn’t stop moving, and walked her all the way to one end of the long kitchen before rounding on her. “Are you okay?”
She seemed stunned.
“I had to get you outta there, am I right?”
“Ohmygod,” she whimpered, putting the almost empty flute on the counter before launching herself at me. It wasn’t hard. In her three-inch stilettos, we were more or less the same height, both of us hovering near five-nine.
I hugged her back, able to, as she was a woman. With men, I could only manage a brief clench before the pressure, the holding, even the suggestion of restraint, started to make me queasy. Always, I had to step away quickly. It was not at all the same when a woman embraced me and so I waited until she was ready to let me go.
“Who are you? What’s with the dress? Are you here alone?” I fired the questions at her quickly, my concern making me panicky. “Also, why are you talking to men twice your age? Are you in trouble? Do you need help?”
It took her a moment, and I understood that. I’d asked a lot of questions all at once.
Deep breath out. “I’m Janelle, Winston’s daughter, and I’m waiting for my friends to show up. We’re going to a party at our friend Ruben’s house in River North.”
My scowl was automatic. “Aren’t you, like, fourteen?”
Her eyes got big like an anime character. “I’m seventeen,” she said firmly, defensively, like how dare I.
“Girl,” I said, because for starters, she still was one, and secondly, she needed to wake up. “Did your father see this outfit?”
“Yes,” she stated, her voice rising.
I crossed my arms, squinting at her. “If you go out to a club with your fake-ass ID, if someone puts something in your drink and then walks you out of there, that’s it. No one will ever see you again.” She opened her mouth to say something. “Yes, in a perfect society where every man respected every woman, and vice versa, we’d never have to worry about that scenario, but that’s not where we’re currently at, is it?”
“I told you I’m going to a house party?”
I tipped my head.
“Fine,” she groused. “I’m going to a club.”
“I get the fake-ID thing. I had one too. But I’m fully prepared to narc to your father if you don’t go change.”
“I—”
“And make your friends change too before they get here,” I said, piling on another stipulation. “Because they have to come in to get you, and I want to see what everyone’s wearing before you go anywhere with them.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” she proclaimed haughtily.
I grinned. “You wanna be grounded until you’re, like, thirty-five?”
She bit her bottom lip.
“Well?”
“Okay,” she whispered, and I heard it then. She wasn’t fighting me, I suspected, because she was still a bit spooked from Dumont giving her the attention of a woman he was interested in and not his boss’s underage daughter.
“That’s what it’s like in clubs too, unless one of your guy friends is going to stick to you like glue all night. But they probably want to pick someone up, so where does that leave you?”
“I get it.”
I stared into her big brown eyes. “I’m really not trying to frighten you. I just want you to be careful.”
“No, I know,” she said, giving me a hint of a smile. “Who even was that guy?”
I winced.
“He works for my dad, right?”
I nodded. “That’s Jonah Dumont.”
“Dumont? Really? I think his daughter is in my geometry class.”
“Maybe don’t tell her.”
She put up both hands. “Don’t even worry.”
“Okay, so where’s your phone?” She pointed in the living room, and I saw the tiny drawstring black-sequin bag. “Let’s go get it, because I want you to call me, and I’m gonna save your number, so if anything weird ever happens, you’ll have another person to call if you can’t reach your dad or whoever he’s dating.”
“Oh, I am not making friends with any of those whores he’s dating.”
“Whores?” I grimaced. “Isn’t the one he’s seeing now an oil and gas heiress or something? I thought I read that.”
“I swear to God she’s maybe five years older than me.”
“She is not.”
“Swear to God, look it up.”
I pulled my phone, and she leaned in close so we both saw my screen. When her age came up as twenty-three, we both ewwed.
“Told you,” she said with a shiver.
“It’s probably uncomplicated.”
“Double eww.”
“I don’t really have anything to say.”
She grunted.
“None of this is the point. All I wanted was for you to know you can call me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
A real smile then, finally, tremulous but real, lit her sweet face. “I’d love to be friends. What’s your name?”
“Pax.”
“Is that short for something?”
“Paxton.”
“That’s cool,” she murmured, and then grinned big, and I could see her playfulness and spark return. She’d been scared, but her equilibrium was back. “And I meant it, I’m happy to be friends. You’re a good guy.”