Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
It wasn’t a solid plan. This was Ivan’s plan, and I knew he had a reason, but I didn’t see how this was gong to work. Niamh was skittish, for good reason. I needed to break down those walls she’d built. This was going to take fucking time.
“Yes, that would be an easy plan, but it’s not what I want, and seeing as I’m the boss, and I like to get what I want…”
“Then I better hang up and get the job done,” I said.
“Time is ticking.”
Ivan hung up before I did.
Staring at the phone, the urge to crush it was strong, but that would cause more problems.
My only problem was a brown-haired stubborn woman who looked so freaking tired. Niamh was twenty-five years old, and as I looked at her, I couldn’t help but remember the pictures Ivan had shown me. She’d been beaten, not too badly, but enough. I imagine having Finn Byrne as a father wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Something told me that Niamh had been used to a few hits in her time. Also, I had seen the scars on her thighs, at the back, front, and some disappeared under the swimsuit she wore. Those were the kind of scars you got from the metal end of a belt. There was a lot more to Niamh than met the eye.
I know, because I had them myself. The ink helped hide them, but if I ran my fingers across that part of my skin, there were still raised scars.
The minutes ticked by, and I watched as the last customer left. Niamh didn’t leave right away. She stayed behind, helped clean up, and then at nine-thirty, she stepped out of the diner.
I climbed out of my car, and she spotted me, even though she tried to pretend she couldn’t see me.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a terrible actress?” I asked.
Niamh sighed, glanced at me, and then took several steps toward me. “What do you want?” she asked.
I stared at her and knew I had to choose my words carefully. “This morning, you accused me of lying, and I didn’t like it. Also, I don’t know exactly what you accused me of. What did I lie about?”
Niamh tilted her head to the side and I watched as she licked her lips. Three women had licked their lips suggestively at me today. Niamh wasn’t one of them. I doubted she even realized what she was doing, and I could tell she was just deep in thought.
“I, uh, I, when you called me pretty … you don’t need to lie to me about stuff like that. I’m going to come and learn to swim, and you don’t need to dress it up, or do any of that. I’m not a child. I know the truth.”
This made me fold my arms across my chest. “You think I was treating you like a child?”
“Yes. You don’t need to call me pretty or pretend or anything like that.”
I smiled. “Okay, so to be clear, you don’t like me saying you’re pretty.”
“I don’t like you telling me lies,” Niamh said.
I took a step toward her, then another. Much to my surprise, Niamh didn’t back down. She stayed perfectly still. I don’t know if that made her smart, or real fucking stupid. Possibly a mixture of both. I was taller than her and Niamh had no choice but to tilt her head back to look at me. From this angle, it felt like she was at my mercy, and in a way, she was. I didn’t know how far I could push it. Should I touch her? Grip the back of her neck? Give her a warning?
Her lips were so close and so tempting, but I didn’t close that distance between us.
“Between us, Niamh, I wasn’t lying. In fact, I think you’re very pretty, and I broke the rules of the gym today in saying so. I’m not supposed to say things like that to clients. But, when I see a beautiful woman, I’m not going to lie to her.” The urge to kiss her was strong, but I had to play this game right.
Diving in with Niamh, she wouldn’t trust it. She was messed up in the head, and I got it. It didn’t take a genius to know who her father was, and to have been in her company for a couple of hours to recognize it. Also, it helped one messed-up head to recognize another.
I’d been forced to watch my brother and sister drown. That was how messed up my father was. He wanted his children to see what happened to weaklings. Only the strong Orlov survived.
I had tried to dive into that pool to save my sister and brother. On each occasion I had been forced to take a swift punishment—a beating. It had been easy to take, especially because I’d been dealing with the grief of watching my siblings die.