Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I cleared my throat, resisting the urge to twist around and slap him on the back of his head. How could he talk about a dead woman like that? He was a horrible human being. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Of all the odds in the world, I was here—right here in a seat behind the man trying to ruin Javier’s life.
“It had to be fun if you ended up getting her pregnant,” the other man commented.
“Well, see, that’s the crazy thing.” Rafael’s voice became quieter as he said, “She told me about the baby—or at least that she suspected it. And she straight-up tells me she doesn’t want me involved or raising it. At the time, I didn’t give a fuck, you know. I had other shit to deal with, and a kid is the last thing I fucking want. Even now, I’ll probably have to hire a few fucking nannies to keep an eye on her.”
My heart thumped faster. I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. He wasn’t talking about Aleesa like that. Not my sweet girl.
“But it’ll be worth it. The kid’s face is already all over the place. People will see me with her, and I can get her started with the new line we have going for kids. It’s going to be huge, just you watch. When they see her face, the dollars will start rolling in. The people love her already. I wish I would’ve thought about this before now.”
Our waiter approached the table with two waters and set them down in front of us. I locked the screen of my phone and asked the waiter for five more minutes.
When the waiter took off, I looked at Naomi. “I need to do something.”
“Hold on.” She caught my wrist before I could climb out of my seat. “Don’t tell me you’re about to confront him, Tavia.”
“Of course not.” I put on a faux grin and gently tugged my wrist out of her hand. Then I slid out of my booth, tucked my phone into my back pocket, and picked up my cup of water. Then I turned toward Rafael’s booth and pretended to trip, tipping my glass forcefully to the right so water could spill all over his food and run onto his lap.
“What the fuck!” Rafael shot out of his booth.
“Oh my goodness,” I gasped. “I’m so sorry!”
Rafael flung the water off his hands as he grimaced at his wet trousers. I tried not to laugh, because he was wearing a gray suit and looked like he’d peed himself.
“Do you work here or something?” Rafael looked me up and down, grimacing.
I frowned back. “Do I look like I work here?”
“I don’t fucking know, but if you do, I need to speak to the manager. What kind of unprofessional shit is this?”
“Well, I don’t work here, and I told you I was sorry.” I looked from him to his friend—a scrawny Caucasian guy with glasses, who was balding at the crown of his head. Typical. “I have to ask. What is it that you get off on more? Him telling you stories about using children for financial gain, or when he tells you about his affair with a deceased woman?”
Rafael’s friend turned beet red.
“Who the hell are you?” Rafael hissed.
“Someone you’re going to regret sitting next to.”
I started to walk away, but Rafael grabbed my upper arm tightly—so tightly I nearly froze. Because the grip was familiar. It was angry and hard and ruthless.
“Um, you better get your hands off my girl before I cut ’em off.” Naomi’s voice rose behind me, and I looked in her direction. She stood a few steps away, holding a steak knife in one hand.
The crazy thing was, Naomi was the type to definitely cut or stab a man’s hands if he got . . . well, handsy. She’d hurt men before, and she’d do it again. She grew up around horrible people, so this was nothing new to her. However, I would never let her do it here—not in Atlanta and not to a rich, petty man like Rafael.
“No, you know what? It’s okay, Naomi. I’ve got this.” I lowered my eyes to Rafael’s grip. “I suggest you remove your hand before I make you remove it.”
Rafael blinked rapidly as he snatched his hand away. “You spilled water on me on purpose. That’s assault.”
“Oh, please. It was an accident. Besides, a little water isn’t going to kill you. You need a bath to wash away all the grimy shit you do.”
Rafael stared at me, baffled.
“Is everything okay here?” A well-dressed man approached us, with eyes full of concern. I figured he was the manager.
“Oh, yes. Everything is fine,” I told him. “Just a little misunderstanding. Right, Rafael?”
This time, Rafael blanched. “Wait . . . I know you . . .”