Page 153 of Fierce Storm
“At least they’re not getting personal. It’s just property. It may hurt you financially, but it won’t kill you.”
“I almost wish you hadn’t said that.”
“I thought the same as soon as I finished. But you have nothing to worry about. If I know you, you already have security on Camilla and Paige.”
“Let’s not forget Marc.”
“I knew it! You probably had security on them before this all started.”
“I’m kidding. Camilla has security, but that’s her team. I have one guy on Paige and I’m lucky she let me. Marc would kill me if I tried. But he’s with Camilla at the moment anyway.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you upped your security?”
“I… ah…” I scratch the back of my neck, preferring not to say this out loud. “I don’t have security.”
“You don’t? You’re worth millions. Maybe you need something. Just in case.” My eyes drop to the photos of the fire damage and the workplace safety report, and I sigh dramatically.
“You might be right. But God, I hope you’re wrong.”
“Me too.”
Istay back at the D’Angelo Construction office until the early hours of the morning, and because of that, it’s a struggle to get up when my alarm goes off. Which is not at all like me.
I could work right up until an hour before my alarm, have a short power nap, then do it all again, providing I get a decent sleep the following night. The problem is that I’m not sleeping well in general. I haven’t been sleeping well since before Paige’s wedding.
Since the moment I first laid it all on the line with Keeley and she told me we’d talk about it. Now we’re having goddamn phone sex and still haven’t addressed any of the issues between us.
All I know is that I want more. As complicated as that might be.
As complicated as that is.
Keeley is only thirty-three. She’s beginning her life while I’m a few years past my midlife crisis. I own a fucking football team to prove that.
She’s going to want kids and a wedding. A wedding I could probably come around to, but kids? I’m well past that and—What am I even thinking?
We haven’t discussed any of that, and until we do, I’m spiraling for nothing. Again. While I have a company that’s literally burning to the ground.
I could have demanded we talk last night, but I didn’t. Instead, I let her talk me into phone sex, and fuck, was that an experience and a half.
My hand has never felt so good.
And I hate that it feels so wrong.
Like I’m using her without declaring my intentions, as old-school as that sounds. I am fucking old-school and I’m going to own it.
Why the fuck am I in New York when I could be home with Keeley in my arms right now?
Fucking Mikklesons. Yet another reason I need to put a stop to their bullshit.
I groan into my pillow, and I’m about to say fuck the world and roll over to go back to sleep, when my phone rings and I huff out a laugh. Of course someone would call the first time I ever decide to sleep in.
I blindly reach for my phone, only sitting up when I see that it’s Wes.
Since we’re three hours ahead it must be important. It’s only six a.m. there.
