Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
She leaned against the doorjamb. “This guy is nothing but trouble. Just like my ex.”
I don’t want that life for myself and Hadley. We got out. We’re not getting sucked back in.
“If he was, you never would have given him the time of day.” Mrs. Richards set her basket down in the tiny kitchen and crossed over to take her hands. “I know it’s hard to put yourself out there, especially when someone has been burned as badly as you have. But if you never take that first step, you’re going to end up closing yourself off for good.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” At least then she could stay out of trouble that came with a penis attached. From the very beginning, there hadn’t been a single man—family or otherwise—who was willing to put her first. She’d thought she’d found that with Sergei, but it had all been a lie. When she needed him most, when she was pregnant and terrified and Andrei was diagnosed with cancer and trying to find peace by forcing a father-daughter relationship with her, Sergei had chosen the Romanovs over her.
After that, she’d realized that she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself—especially now that Hadley was in the picture.
Mrs. Richards shook her head. “Take it from an old woman who’s seen too much of life pass her by—it’s too short not to take a leap of faith every once in a while. This man lit something up inside you. Maybe it’ll develop into something, maybe it won’t. But it’s guaranteed to wither and die if you don’t give it a chance.”
She tried to picture it—never seeing Cillian again. Never having him walk into Jameson’s and give her that grin that made her toes curl. Never getting to know exactly what it was that put those shadows into his dark eyes. Never getting to kiss him again, never letting him sink between her thighs, never being able to follow through on the rough promise of his words and actions.
It made her stomach ache like she’d lost something valuable. It didn’t make any sense. She barely knew the man—it shouldn’t matter if he dropped off the face of the earth.
Olivia sighed. “One date. That’s it.”
“Good.” She made a shooing motion. “Now, go get dressed. You don’t want to be late.”
Since she wasn’t even sure she wanted to go in the first place, being late was the least of her worries, but she went back into her room and threw on the first thing she laid hands on—a pair of holey jeans, her boots, and a tank top that did great things for her minuscule chest. It wasn’t fancy, but she had to work afterward, and that was more important…and she might just be digging in her heels in protest in any way she could.
She stopped in the kitchen to drop a kiss on Hadley’s head. “Be good for Mrs. Richards.”
“Tell your mommy that you’re always good.” Mrs. Richards grinned. “You look great. Now git.”
Olivia shook her head and snagged her purse on her way to the door. “I’m closing tonight, so feel free to use the pullout couch.”
“I always do, dear.”
She knew that. God, she had to stop micromanaging and get her ass out the door. “What would I do without you?”
Mrs. Richards smiled. “You’d do just fine. Now go meet your man and have fun.”
“Night!” She waited at the door, just like she always did, to hear the click of the lock before she hurried down the stairs. Mrs. Richards was right. She’d cut things too close, and now she was going to have to catch a cab instead of the T. She tried not to think too hard on how many tips she’d have to earn to make up for this splurge.
Cillian will pay it if you let him.
No way. She wasn’t going on this date to find a sugar daddy to take care of her problems. She’d picked Sergei because she thought being with him would make her feel whole, and look where it took her. No, fulfillment, whether financial or emotional, couldn’t be found in another person. She’d make her own way or sink while trying.
She caught a cab down the street and rattled off the address Cillian had texted her earlier. As the cab pulled up, she discovered it was a tiny restaurant in the West End—close enough to Jameson’s that she wouldn’t have to take another cab, but also far enough away to be outside Beacon Hill. It struck her that Cillian had known this and planned it out like that—close to work but outside his family’s main stomping grounds.
It still blew her mind that so much criminal activity went down in one of the most prestigious neighborhoods in Boston, but she shouldn’t be surprised. The Romanovs rubbed elbows with thugs and politicians alike. There was no reason the O’Malleys wouldn’t do the same.