Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“Everything that happened back there is a part of who I am. I am not, nor will I ever be, anything like your rock star husband.” She goes to speak, but I shake my head and continue, “You had the perfect life with him, but you weren’t happy. You do realize this, don’t you? I’ve seen more life from you since I’ve been with you than I did prior to knowing you.”
“You didn’t know me before?”
I smile at her question because even if she never saw me, I always saw her. From the moment she walked down that aisle and married Kyler, I thought, How does a son of a bitch like that get her? He never deserved her. He used her and worked her to the bone. And he had other women on the side—of which I’m sure she has no idea about. Every time I saw him with a woman who wasn’t Oriana, I would wonder, what is that pretty little redhead doing right now?
“You were beautiful in your wedding dress,” is the only response I can give her right now.
“I forgot Kyler said you were at our wedding. How and why were you there?”
“Do you want to sightsee tomorrow?” I ask, changing the subject completely.
Her mood has visibly shifted, and the tightness she was holding onto has relaxed just a little.
She replies with a simple “sure” and I take her hand and guide her to our suite. I ordered a room with two bedrooms, but I really hope—really fucking hope—that she’ll share the same bed with me, even if it’s only for a few hours.
Because the last thing I want to do is wake up with my hands around her neck again.
Chapter 28
Sit on it and call me Daddy
Oriana
When we get to the room, our bags are already there. Jake goes to a set of double doors and pulls them open. When I follow, I realize it’s a connecting room.
“You can have your space,” he says.
I’m not really sure what to say, so I simply nod before I pass him and step into the room. He follows not long after, carrying my bag and placing it on the bed, and then he leaves me alone. I don’t bother shutting the doors as I unzip my bag and pull out my pajamas and toothbrush. I’m guessing the reason he got connecting rooms is because the last time he fell asleep in my vicinity, he woke up with his hands around my neck, choking the life right out of me.
He explained a little of it, but there is way more to the story. I’m sure I don’t even know the half of it, but the part I do know is troubling.
I strip out of my dress, go into the bathroom, and start the shower. Stepping under the spray, I let the hot water rain over me, then I scrub my shoulders and neck where that man touched me, thinking I could get the feel of him out of my mind. It partly works until I hear a knock at the door, and my body freezes. But as soon as Jake’s voice carries through into the bathroom, every muscle relaxes. I should be terrified after what I had just witnessed, but that isn’t my natural reaction to him.
“I’ve ordered room service. You need to eat.”
Come to think of it, I’ve hardly eaten all day. Though my stomach starts grumbling for food, I finish up in the shower, washing my face, and then quickly changing into my pajamas.
When I walk out of my room, Jake’s seated at a table covered with plates of food. He doesn’t notice me at first, as he’s on his phone typing away, but then all of a sudden, his dark eyes meet mine. He’s not a man who will simply offer you a smile. No, instead, he stares at you as if he can see straight into your soul.
“Eat,” he commands and places his phone down. I sit across from him and notice the phone lighting up with several messages all at once. He doesn’t even touch it, just watches me, waiting for me to eat. I open the first cloche, and the smell of pasta instantly hits me. My stomach gives a loud grumble, and Jake smirks before he opens another cloche that contains a Margherita pizza. He serves me a drink, and I waste no time as I start eating. He digs into his own dish, and we both groan at the taste of the best pasta in the world.
“Do you want to run?” I didn’t quite expect that question. And to be honest, a part of me did want to run, and I’m really unsure why the other part wants to stay.
“Not yet,” I reply, as it’s the only response I can think to give.