Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Of course, I’m sure. Why do you ask?” I aimed for sincerity but worried my cheeks would crack like some plastic Stepford wife.
“It’s just…” He sighed, puffing out his cheeks. “It’s very sudden. And I know you. You’re not one to act without thoroughly thinking everything through.”
“Oh, trust me. I’ve thought everything through. I even made lists.”
He snorted. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “I just wanted to ask as your friend. Especially after how tense you both were in the office.”
“We bicker,” I explained with a shrug. “It makes the sex all the better.”
“And that’s my cue to leave,” he said, holding his hands up.
We hugged one last time, and then they all left.
I stood to the side, offering directions to the movers on how best to pack the truck to ensure the most efficient unpacking.
Once they finished, I lingered in the mostly empty apartment and poured myself a glass of wine. They left behind the large furniture that Lucian already had, but took the small things that made this place mine. Taking a sip, I thought back to the five pros and cons lists I made before agreeing to move in with him. As much as I’d wanted to demand I stay in my place or he move in with me, it’d made more sense for me to move in with him.
His apartment was bigger.
He used his place to entertain.
His had a better view.
His had…better everything, I begrudgingly admitted.
I’d planned to buy an apartment with my own money after college—and I would have if my dad hadn’t stepped in. He’d balked at the places I’d shown him and demanded I let him cover the down payment so he could sleep at night knowing I wouldn’t be murdered. I’d let him, but I still stayed within a reasonable range. Which meant smaller and less luxurious.
Even with the pros and cons list, I still regretted leaving the little place I’d carved out for me. But just because I was leaving this apartment behind, didn’t mean I couldn’t make his apartment a piece of my own too. I’d packed every knickknack and memory I collected over the years and looked forward to finding a place for it among his austere décor.
Especially my vejigante mask. The bold colors decorating the large, horned, dragonesque face would look perfect on his wall.
I finished my wine and imagined Lucian’s face when he saw it.
With a smile bigger than I had in a while, I grabbed the mask and headed to his apartment.
Correction: our apartment.
LUCIAN
“What the hell is that thing?”
She entered with her chin high, looking regal as hell as she walked in like she owned the place. Like a queen entering her domain.
A queen clutching a giant, colorful dragon face looking thing. The multiple horns left me wondering if it doubled as a weapon somehow.
“It’s a vejigante mask,” she said.
I shut the door behind her and blinked, trying to process what the hell she said. Part of my struggle came from the foreign word rolling off her tongue, mixing with the delicious timber of her voice. She’d mentioned her mother coming from Puerto Rico, but I’d never heard her speak Spanish. After hearing only one word that sent a thrill down my spine, I made a mental note to get her to speak more.
At my silence, she sighed in exasperation without turning back to acknowledge me. “I got it in Puerto Rico for a festival when I went with my mom. It’s a big holiday there that I like to remember, so I was hoping to find a place to hang it here.”
I looked to the demonic mask, then back to her. “Maybe in a guest room?” I offered.
She stopped at the edge of the foyer and whipped around with a glare. “No, Lucian. Not hidden away in a guest room.”
I held up my hands and took a step back.
“If you want me to move in, then that means you get everything that comes with me.” She cocked a challenging brow before continuing to the living room. “Be happy I didn’t bring my blue velvet couch. Now, that would have clashed with your décor. But if it’s too much, I can always stay at my place.”
I followed and took in the dark woods and gray fabrics, biting back a laugh when I imagined a blue velvet couch standing stark against the monotone colors the interior decorator chose for me. Aspen stroked bold red fingernails along the modern couch and glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. Sparks of victory flashed in the depths of her eyes, taking my silence as shock and assuming she won some imagined battle.
“Aspen,” I said, eager to dismiss any notions.
She stopped her perusal of my bland furniture and fully faced me.
My thoughts stuttered to a halt as I took her in. She stood out more than the blue couch ever could. Her bronze skin encased in light, wide leg jeans and a splash of vibrant colors on her Journey T-shirt. Her dark hair pulled back on each side with red clips. She looked more casual than I’d ever seen her and just as stunning as when she joined me at the Berkshire.