Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Chantel passes around a few more drinks, and we all take a minute to decompress. Amid the chatter, the door to the conference room swings open, and Gabi walks in, donning an oversized cream sweatsuit she snagged from my office suite.
“Umm, excuse me.” Lucia pouts. “Nobody told me there were sweatpants available.”
“They’re from the new line I’m working on.” Gabi glances down, plucking at the fabric. “It’s sensory friendly.”
“They feel like a cloud.” I sigh, wishing I had thought to grab some myself.
“I’ll bring you another set in this color.” She shoots me an apologetic glance. “I just needed to be comfy.”
“It’s fine,” I assure her.
“Were you here the whole time?” Chantel tugs the pencil from her hair, shaking out the long black strands. “I thought you left with Serafina.”
“No. I just finished reading my book in Abella’s office.”
“And?” Chantel eyes her. “You have nothing to say about the library scene?”
“Oh, I have plenty to say.” Gabi’s lips curve into a shy smile. “It was hot.”
“Which book are we talking about here?” Lucia glances between them. “Are you holding out on us?”
“You wouldn’t like it,” Gabi blurts, a faint flush creeping over her cheeks.
Lucia hums under her breath, then changes the subject. “So if you’re still here, does that mean you chose us over the premier of Shark Week?”
“I’m saving it for tomorrow.” Gabi grabs a cocktail and hoists herself up onto the conference table, her sparkly ballet flats hanging on for dear life.
A small lump in her hoodie shifts around, and a second later, her tiny Chihuahua Beppe pops his head out of her neckline, takes a peek at us, then disappears into the fabric again.
“Your obsession with sharks is disturbing.” Valentina peers at Gabi over the rim of her cocktail. “It’ll do you good to take a break.”
“They’re an apex predator,” Gabi huffs. “We have to respect their habitat.”
“You spent way too much time listening to the boys on the island when we were growing up,” Val says. “If it isn’t sharks, it’s the octopi.”
“Technically, it’s octopuses,” Gabi corrects her. “And just because you’ve never been dragged to the bottom of the sound by a giant octopus doesn’t mean it can’t happen. They’re wildly intelligent creatures.”
“Maybe you should write a guest column about this bizarre kink,” Lucia says. “I Kissed a Tentacle and I Liked It.”
“Nobody’s writing an octopus column,” I interject.
Gabi arches a brow at me.
“Or sharks,” I add. “The Fifth House covers topics of interest relevant to members of The Society, and those aren’t it.”
“I’m a member,” Gabi replies. “But, okay, fair point. Majority rules, I guess.”
“This meeting has gone off the rails,” Val says.
“Yes, it has.” Mariella glances up from her phone. “I have a patient I’d like to get back to.”
Her observation hangs heavy in the air, dampening the mood as the events of this morning linger in our thoughts.
“Will she be okay?” Gabi asks what we’re all thinking.
Mariella releases a long breath. “In time.”
“Okay.” I redirect the conversation. “Let’s get back to the agenda. It’s late.”
“I second that.” Lucia yawns. “I’m exhausted.”
“Alright, where were we?” I check my tablet, freezing when I see the message that pops up.
Did you like the flowers?
My head snaps up, and I glance around the conference room, only to suck in a sharp breath when I notice the bouquet on the credenza. They aren’t just flowers. They’re the unmistakable Rosa Velenosa. The pale ivory roses edged with crimson are a hybrid that could have only come from my mother’s garden on the Vitale estate.
A shiver crawls down my spine as I consider that my stalker is sending me a clear message. Either he’s someone close enough to have access to me, or he’s letting me know that he can get to me beyond the walls of the most secure estate on the planet.
I have to wonder if he understands the significance of these roses. But in my gut, I know he must. Nothing he’s done has ever been a coincidence.
Every text he sends is precisely timed for maximum emotional impact—pushing the boundaries with each interaction we have. Most days, I can’t decide whether he wants me or he just wants to punish me. But how could he possibly know that my mother cultivated these roses? It was ten years ago.
My thoughts drift to Matteo, and I question for the thousandth time if this could be his way of trying to win me over. He would have no problem gathering these roses from the garden, being that he lives there. But he’s not the only one. There’s also my creepy guard, Tony, to consider.
Except, I don’t really think it’s either of them. Tony is far too obvious about his intentions, and he doesn’t need to stalk me because he’s with me most days anyway. And Matteo has never spoken to me in the possessive, dominant way my stalker does. After months of these exchanges with him, I’ve become far too accustomed to his sharp-tongued observations.