Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
As the funeral winds down, whispers and disappointed frowns take flight. Most suffered through the storm and service to catch a glimpse of the elusive Varrick Wolfe, the son-in-law to Emilia, but he’s a no-show.
I care less about that chupacabra and more about the ones who raised me. Luckily, they don’t seem to be making an appearance today either.
The coffin is lowered into the ditch. While people begin to disperse, sloshing in the muddy terrain, Jake leads me away from the crowds and to his grandfather’s grave.
It’s private.
Canopies of old oak trees catch the rainfall, and fog hangs low across the historic headstones.
“Addison hates being dirty, so maybe they were avoiding mucking up their Louboutins,” I theorize to Jake, of all people, but Rocky is hanging back at Emilia’s grave and socializing with several contacts he’s made while being Grey Thornhall.
Valentina de la Vega. (Caufield MBA student and stunningly beautiful. I have eyes.)
Damian Bennet. (Son of the third founding family.)
Collin Falcone. (Supposed loyal best friend to Trent Koning Waterford and a notorious partier.)
“I’m glad she didn’t make it,” Jake says, and I agree, letting the convo about Addison end there. I’m not looking to dig deep into the pain of what has happened. I’d rather move forward, and I think Jake senses that, too. He keeps the umbrella steady over us as we walk between the many grave markers. “I hate cemeteries,” he breathes.
“I love them.”
His laugh turns into a smile. “The horror-movie lover in you?”
“That and…” I look around at the names scrawled across dozens of weatherworn stones, some graves nestled only inches apart. “It’s lineages of people buried together. Families. A visual representation of close bonds between those who mattered to each other.” I smile back at him. “It’s love in death. So in that sense, cemeteries are romantic.”
“Okay, yeah. When you put it like that.” His lips rise higher. “Does your ex-husband have the same feelings?”
Ex-husband. Shit.
We forgot to clear up this last lie, and is it bad if I don’t want to? I love pretending to be Rocky’s ex-wife. There is no better term that encompasses the messy depth of our history.
“Uh.” I blink past that speed bump. “No, he hates cemeteries, like you. He’s ridiculously superstitious.”
“Really?”
“Oh, to the max.” My cheeks hurt in a smile. “He would probably never step foot on cemetery grass if he could help it, but he’ll do it for…” I flush.
“For you,” Jake guesses, sweeping his eyes over my features.
“Yeah, but also for Hailey. Trevor. All of us. When I told you he’d do anything for his friends, what I meant is he’d do anything for the five of us. He has done more than you can ever know.”
“I’m sure,” he says, still in the slight haze of realizations.
As we draw farther and farther from the freshly dug grave, I’m afraid to lose sight of Rocky in the distance. I love casting sly glances back.
I love locking eyes in secret, pulse-pounding seconds. I love the iron-strong tether between me and him, and anyone who tries to break it will trip and fall. Maybe it’s why I’m not overly concerned for our real relationship amid a potential job.
If we were going to get together, it’d always have to work inside what we do.
Unless, of course, I quit this lifestyle, but that’s not even an option I want to mull over right now.
I risk a glance back at Rocky.
His dark gaze fastens to mine, and my heart double beats when he shakes Damian’s hand in goodbye, then aims for us with an unyielding, confident stride.
Jake sees and slows down so Rocky can catch up. We don’t have much of an audience over here, and Rocky interrupting me and Jake would just stoke the narrative that my ex-husband is still pining after me and can’t leave me alone.
“Phoebe was just telling me you hate cemeteries,” Jake says.
Rocky grips an umbrella with one hand and brushes his hair with the other, all while staring intensely down at me. “Can’t stop talking about me?” Okay…that was extremely hot.
But I’m not falling all over him. “I could go on about all the things you hate, but it’d shave ten years off my life, so you’re lucky I even shared one thing.”
His lips nearly twist in a smile. He angles his umbrella, shielding us from view of the gravesite we deserted, and using the discreet moment, he whispers against my ear, “I’d say you love me in your mouth, but I haven’t been there yet.”
The image of his cock between my lips causes me to throb, and I’m not even a fan of blow jobs, so what is happening?
Jake is watching my breath hitch. I’m more aware of him here, and it’s a little obvious Rocky just aroused me. Minorly. Minorly aroused.
Rocky seems satisfied.
I might like how he came on to me in front of Jake. Is that weird? It’s not a sudden revelation that I enjoy being possessed by him, and if we’re extending this fake-dating thing, I hope he never stops.