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)
Are you trying to get every man in your office building murdered, Abella? Find another dress to wear.
Do you like it when I tell you what to do, Abella?
You’re piling up the transgressions, Abella.
Smile at him again, and you’ll find his head on your desk tomorrow.
Ignore me and see what happens.
The first time he messaged me, the logical side of my brain concluded the only sane thing to do was report him. Except I didn’t, and I can’t explain why. I wanted to know who he was, and once I reported him to my guards, they’d make him disappear and never give me a name. That’s how things are handled in our world.
So I let it continue. And after days turned into weeks and he never made an appearance, I got comfortable with his daily messages. It was reckless and stupid, but if I was being honest, there was a part of me that enjoyed this small act of rebellion. It was a secret only I knew in a life that had been so tightly controlled it usually felt like it was strangling me.
These interactions have become so ingrained in my routine, he’s conditioned me to accept the rush of fear he sparks with every text. What’s worse is the dopamine hit that’s sure to follow. Because that means I actually like this.
There’s familiarity in his rough-spoken authority, and I can’t help but imagine him as the ghost of my past. Or maybe that’s just what I want to believe.
“Earth to Abella.” Lucia snaps her fingers.
I blink and find everyone focused on me—except Valentina, who’s staring at the flowers.
“Why are Mom’s roses here?” she asks.
“I brought them.” The lie falls from my lips before I can stop it. They’re just piling up now.
Valentina’s throat bobs with emotion, which only makes me feel worse.
“We’re almost done.” I return my attention to the notes on my tablet. “Do we want to go over the stats for last month, or save those for the next meeting?”
“Save them.” Soft affirmations fill the room.
I type a reminder to add that to the next meeting’s agenda, including a few side notes while they’re fresh in my mind. Typically, we save the cocktails for last, but today, we decided to drink first. It probably wasn’t my finest decision, but if there’s one thing I’m adept at—it’s carrying on with business as usual.
What started out as a pet project for all of us has become a well-established digital publication for members of IVI. We meet twice a month and curate content on a variety of topics, including style and fashion, culture and society, health and beauty, and the occasional spotlight on other relevant interests.
Because we all have other things that occupy our time—like careers, overbearing families, or school—we try to keep our meetings short and snappy. But tonight is the exception. I think it may officially be the longest one on record yet.
“Let’s just do this rapid fire,” I say. “We have two weeks until publication. I’ll go around the room and everyone can tell me what they’re working on.”
They all nod.
“Okay, let’s start with Dr. Mariella.”
“Five habits for better quality sleep,” she says.
“Got it.” I add it to my list. “How about you, Plant Mommy?”
“Maximizing your space with living walls,” Lucia answers.
“Okay, and Serafina is doing a write-up on the Winterbottom-York wedding.” I tap out a quick note.
Gabi snorts at the name, then hiccups.
“Historic wedding venues in the Pacific Northwest,” Valentina supplies as I type.
“How to rail your highbrow wife like a pornstar,” Chantel deadpans.
The room falls silent for a beat before everyone bursts into a fit of laughter.
“I know.” She smirks. “They aren’t ready for that yet.”
“At least not that they can admit openly.” Lucia snickers. “Maybe you should start with basics for the sexually repressed, since that’s what most of us are.”
“I’m easing my way into it,” Chantel teases. “This month’s topic is the art of communicating your desires.”
“Okay.” Valentina sighs. “But next month, how about Eye Candy: Black Sweatpants Edition?”
“God, you little pervert.” Lucia flashes Val a devilish grin. “You can’t stop talking about those sweatpants. Or more accurately, what was in them.”
“Wait, who was in sweatpants?” I ask, being nosy.
“Nobody,” Val groans. “My god, it was just a suggestion.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Gabi says. “You know we’ll figure it out eventually.”
“Eh, doesn’t matter.” Val shrugs. “It’s never gonna happen anyway.”
“Wait.” A slow smile spreads across Mariella’s face. “Is it—”
“Zip it!” Val shoots her a look.
“Oh my god, him?” Mariella scoffs. “Seriously?”
“You take this to your grave,” Valentina demands. “Swear it.”
“Bible.” Mariella raises her right hand. “I would never betray the sisterhood.”
“Doesn’t that mean we should all know?” Gabi muses.
Valentina’s cheeks flush as she regrets her decision to open her mouth in the first place. “Can we please just move along?”
“Fine by me,” Mariella says. “Abella, what’s your piece about?”