Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Shit. Could I really be falling in love with this woman already?
I shake the thought from my head. We just had a great night of sex. Oxytocin and dopamine are still swarming my brain.
But if I don’t love Alissa yet, I definitely like her.
And I can’t wait to see her again.
I leave the apartment, making sure the lock on the doorknob is engaged before closing her front door. I tiptoe down the stairs—I don’t want to rouse that nosy neighbor again—and walk out to the street where my Rolls-Royce is parked.
Shit, I didn’t even check to see if I parked legally. I didn’t think I’d be here for more than a few minutes to walk her up.
I scan my windshield. No ticket. Thank God. The traffic cops in this city can be assholes, especially with cars parked on the street.
The drive to my place is quick, and I walk up to the loft I keep over my shop.
I turn the key, disengaging the deadbolt, and walk inside.
God, what a night.
What a fucking night.
I took Alissa back to Aces, we had an argument about Rouge’s methods, I fended off a gang of thugs trying to attack her, and then we engaged in the most thrilling night of sex I’ve ever experienced with a woman.
Fuck.
21
ALISSA
I wake up to the gentle caress of sunlight coming through my window.
For a moment, all is peaceful.
I spent the evening in the throes of passion with a beautiful man who brought me to new heights of pleasure. A man who rescued me from a gang of goons in the alleyway outside of Aces Underground.
A man…who is no longer in the bed beside me.
I squint at the clock on my nightstand. Eight a.m. I close my eyes. My shift at the hospital doesn’t start until ten today. I’ve got some time to myself this morning.
Maddox probably had to leave to open his shop. I’m not sure when his opening hours are, or if he’s even open on a Sunday.
Maybe he left the second I fell asleep. This was only our second date, after all. Sleeping over for the first time is a big step.
I stretch my arms over my head and yawn. I need some coffee.
Yes, I know we Brits are supposed to enjoy tea over coffee, but I’ve assimilated to the ways of the Yanks. Though I still love tea in the afternoon and evening.
I get out of bed, grab a fuzzy pink robe from a hook hanging by my bedroom door, and pad out to the kitchen. I’m about to start a pot of coffee when I see a note resting on top of the machine.
Alissa—
Thanks for a great evening. Wish I could have stayed longer, but I have to open the shop. Please text me when you get up. I’d love to see you again, maybe somewhere new? Let me know.
Best, Maddox
Well, there’s all my questions answered. I put the pot of coffee on and look for my phone.
Shit. It’s still dead, still in my purse. I never plugged it in last night. I was a little preoccupied with Maddox’s beautiful cock.
No regrets there.
I grab my phone out of my purse and see a tiny blue slip of paper.
Oh, my God.
The note from Seven.
It’s probably nothing, like Maddox said. She probably wrote down the order. Or she didn’t write it at all and it just got affixed to my glass by mistake.
Still, though.
I plug in my phone and grab my laptop out of my bedroom, opening it and pulling up Google.
The handwriting is messy so I can’t quite make out what all the words are. I type into Google “Asian languages that use the Latin alphabet.”
The search engine’s automatic AI gives me the answer right away. Indonesian, Malay, Tagalog, and Vietnamese all use the same alphabet as English.
If I could make out the letters and marks on the note, I would just type it into Google Translate. But I can’t quite do it.
Dinah is Vietnamese. Her parents brought her here when she was very young, and she grew up speaking both her native language and English.
If this is Vietnamese, maybe she can help make it out.
I smirk. Dinah will look up at me with sarcastic raised eyebrows, probably telling me that the mysterious note attached to my glass says something like “dirty martini.”
And we’ll have a good laugh about it.
I arrive at the hospital ten minutes before my shift. I head to the ladies’ changing room to get into a fresh pair of scrubs.
I pocket the note from Seven and head to the nurse’s station, placing my purse on the counter.
I wave at the head nurse, Janice. “Is Dinah around?”
She scrunches her forehead. “No. She was just here. Probably just went to the bathroom. I—”
She’s interrupted by a piercing alarm coming from one of the rooms on the ward. A patient is flatlining.