Juice: (An Alpha Male Billionaire Romance - Part 3) (Juice: The Series) Read Free Page B

bend.
    “Good morning, Everett. Don’t tell me there’s another
helicopter ride. I’m growing quite bored of them,” I say with a hint of
sarcasm.
    “Hush. No more rotors until we’re back in New York. We’ll
stick to four wheeled transport for now.” The plane has come to a halt and a
cherry red and black sports car which can only belong to Everett is ready to go
alongside the jet.
    “Is that the four wheels you speak of?”
    “Correct. My custom McLaren P1. Only a prick American such
as myself could get away with driving a British super car in Italy. Hop in!”
     
    * * *
    It’s a clear, warm degree day without a cloud to be found in
the Mediterranean sky. I’d be in heaven, enjoying the drive and view of Lago
di Como on my right, but I’m scared for my life. My feet are reflexively
digging into the carpet and my hand is tired from gripping the door.
    “Don’t you just love the tight suspension? I hardly even
need the brakes on these turns!” Everett says, celebrating the fast life.
    “I love it!” I scream through clenched teeth as we brake
hard into another turn and accelerate away. The forces push us both to the
right, then back left with the seats and harnesses holding us in.
    “I’m going to get sick all over the floormats if we keep
this up much longer,” I warn with a laugh, but I’m not joking.
    “We’ve arrived,” he says, downshifting and turning onto the
pea gravel driveway leading to a lakefront villa.
    * * *
    Mini waves push us up and down as my float aimlessly. I feel
a damp hand reach over and take mine. Half-awake I hold a finger.
    “Isn’t this the life?” Everett asks to me, not expecting an
answer. We’ve been floating in the villa’s pool for over an hour looking into a
cloudless sky.
    “I wish I could stay here forever,” I say, looking over at
the lake just a stone’s throw away.
    “When you said ‘Milan’ I imagined models, museums, and four
hour meals,” I say.
    “The food will be here soon,” Everett says and I laugh.
    “I like the city, but this is my version of a beach house.”
I never work here, only relax.
    “Can I ask you something?”
    “Of course.”
    “Why did you pick me?” I say, not looking over. “Of all the
women you meet, why am I here? It’s been a whirlwind when I’m with you, and I’m
just worried this could easily disappear.”
    I count a pause of three seconds.
    “I know more about you than you know,” he says. “Like I said
I’m a fan of your company. To be honest, I’ve been following Namaste for
months. I’ve read every one of your blog posts. Yours is a good story, and I’ve
become invested in you. To start your own company with no funding or
connections is very brave. Some would say, naïve, but I’ve always more
appreciated the ones who can bootstrap. I know about your father. I’ve read
about your mother in St. Louis and your relationship with your sister.”
    He pulls closer.
    “I’ve always had a love of storytelling, and it’s why I
started the blogging company. It became a large business, but it started as way
to allow people to share their stories, no matter where they lived or what
struggles they had.”
    “Thank you for telling me,” I say. “But I don’t know much
about you, and I want to know more. Everything.”
    My eyes follow a plane drawing a long thin contrail across
the sky as I hold his hand.
    “Well,” he starts, “I’m an only child. My family raised me
in a strict but loving house in Connecticut. My dad took the train into the
city every day, about an hour and a half each way, but he loved the quieter
life.”
    “That sounds great,” I say and smile at him.
    “It was, but….” he pauses, “They died. It’s not something I
like to talk about.”
    After a moment he continues, “I was at a friend’s sleepover
when I was ten. The investigators told me it was caused by a faulty extension
cord in the basement. They didn’t even have to tell me. I knew it was the one I
used to sneak