Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I didn’t have a plan right now. The life I’d rebuilt had been demolished in a single moment. The sentimental belongings I still had were locked up in storage because I was too afraid to keep them at my apartment. I was glad I’d had the foresight to prepare for this moment. All my clothes and possessions were now gone. The only things I had were the clothes on my back and the purse that had been on my arm. “I don’t want to accept more of your help after what you’ve already done for me, but I’m desperate.”
His smile was just a memory, and his eyes showed a shadow of empathy. “Consider it done.”
Luca delivered on his promise, and his butler delivered all the paperwork and cash to my bedroom. A passport, ID, even a driver’s license, even though I’d never driven a day in my life. And there was a stack of cash, at least thirty thousand euro, way more than I needed.
But I also had nothing, so I took it.
I looked at apartments online and picked a different arrondissement this time. Two million people lived in this city, and with the influx of tourists all year-round, that easily added several hundred thousand people roaming the streets. Finding someone was like finding a needle in a haystack—if you didn’t know where to look.
I picked the 18th arrondissement because it was the least safe. Lots of people around on the streets all hours of the night, people coming and going, not the ideal place for a single woman on her own. They would look for me again, and that was probably the least likely place they would search.
I found a furnished apartment this time because I knew I shouldn’t get attached to any physical possessions. Maybe they would find me again in a week and I’d be off once more. A traveling tourist in my own fucking city.
When the third day came, and I had my affairs in order, I knew it was time to leave. Leave this private hotel with the beautiful flowers and the sexiest asshole who ever lived. Leave the gourmet food that was delivered straight to my door like I’d ordered room service while on a fancy vacation. Leave the protection of the iron gates and the armed men outside—and the man who feared no one.
I hadn’t visited the rest of the house, just stuck to my bedroom during my occupancy. When I didn’t call for Luca, he didn’t come to me, so I didn’t see him again. I left my bedroom and took the stairs down to the very bottom where the entrance had been.
The butler was there, as if he’d heard my footsteps from the floors above. “Are you leaving residence?”
“Um, yeah.” Unfortunately. These three days had been a silence in my racing mind, a gentleness in my pained heart. It was nice to have peace, just for a moment, not to look over my shoulder or sleep with one eye open.
It’d been a long time since I’d felt that way.
“Could I speak to Luca before I go?”
Both front doors opened, and he stepped inside like he’d just gotten home. He was in a long-sleeved black shirt, dark jeans, and boots, similar to the way he’d been dressed the first night I saw him. He had an air of command to his presence but also potent, don’t-give-a-fuck vibes. He turned his hard gaze on me, and I noticed when his eyes settled on my face, they weren’t as annoyed as they’d been in our previous interactions.
His stare seemed to be his words because he didn’t speak.
“I was just leaving.”
He gave a slight nod.
The butler silently excused himself and stepped through the double doors of another part of the house, maybe the kitchen or the drawing room. I had no idea because I’d only visited a minuscule part of the grand home.
“Thank you for everything.”
“Take care.” He never asked about the night we met. Never asked why a gunman was trying to hunt me down. Either he didn’t care or he respected my privacy. I wasn’t sure which it was.
“I hate to ask for anything else, but…I don’t know how else to get it.”
His eyes looked tired, like he’d been out all night and the day before, but they still had the sharpness of a sushi knife. They narrowed slightly as his attention on my face deepened.
“Can I have a gun?” I’d bought one before, but I’d also been scammed before, and I needed something I could count on.
Without hesitation, he lifted up his shirt and reached for the back of his jeans, showing a glimpse of his hard stomach before he handed me the gun by the barrel.
“I don’t have to take yours.”
“I’m not sentimental.”
I took the gun, the metal warm from being pressed against his skin.