Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
"Ah," I say, fighting a smile.
"How are you feeling?" Belle asks her.
"I'm okay." Aurora glances from her to me, her brows crinkled. "I really don't need to be checked out, Constantine. I'm not injured."
"Humor me, starlight."
Her brows wrinkle in annoyance, but she reluctantly agrees.
Belle glides across the living room floor toward her, her bag in hand. I watch them for a long moment, relieved she's here. Relieved Aurora knows her. Grateful Dante agreed to send her when I asked. Aurora is so goddamn brave, I'm not sure she'd tell me even if she they had hurt her. She'd carry it alone.
I know grown men with less spine than this little goddess possesses. I can't even think about what she went through the last two months, but she hasn't cracked yet. She's still soldiering on, refusing to break.
Watching her, I feel whole in a way I never have. Peaceful in a way that's brand new, as if I'm staring at my life's purpose. It's not to kill and maim and destroy. It's to protect and cherish. It's her. She's my reason.
If there's forgiveness for a motherfucker like me, I think she's my proof. This world is an ugly place, with nasty people. Maybe He knew what the fuck He was doing when He brought me into it, after all. He knew his brightest light would need his darkest knight. Yin and yang.
I'll be hard so she stays soft. I'll stain my hands so hers remain clean. But the people who hurt her—every last one of the motherfuckers—will pay.
"I'll be back in a few minutes, starlight," I murmur. "I need to make a call."
She glances up at me, her lips slightly parted. Those pale blue eyes see right to my soul again, sending me free-willing deeper into love with her. I spin like a top set loose on the floor, following the natural slope that leads right to her.
She tips her face up to me, and I can't resist claiming her lips.
Belle gasps quietly.
"Motherfucker," Dante mutters.
I ignore them both. Let them watch. Let them wonder. She's mine. I don't give a flying fuck how it complicates things or who has a problem with it. I'll follow her to the ends of the earth.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," I murmur against her lips.
"Okay," she breathes against mine.
I pry myself away before I embarrass her in front of our company.
Dante follows me down the hall. "Branson is going to kill you."
"Won't be the first to try," I remind him. Hell, I doubt Chris Branson will be the last, either. I've been shot, stabbed, and left for dead more than once. I'm still haunting the alleys of this great state.
"She's been through hell."
"I'm aware. I carried her out of there." I push open the door to my office, allowing Dante to enter ahead of me. "Give us a little credit, D. She's a helluva lot stronger than she looks, and I'm not fucking stupid. I'm not taking advantage of her. You know me better than that."
Dante lifts his hands in a placating gesture. "I wasn't accusing. Simply reminding."
I grunt by way of response, dragging my phone from my pocket.
"You're calling Branson?"
"Yeah." I scrub a hand through my hair, turning to face him. "And then I'm calling Dillon."
My announcement catches him by surprise. His eyes widen. "You trust him?"
"Enough to turn her over to him?" I shake my head. "I trust no one enough for that. She's staying here until her father gets here. But I trust him enough to know he didn't steal that ransom money."
"It's a risk," Dante warns me. "If anyone finds out she's here, they may come for her to keep her quiet."
I smile, a cold, lethal smile. "I fucking hope they do."
Dante shakes his head. "You and Dimitri are two fucking peas in a pod."
"We learned from the best."
He snorts, circling around my desk to the mini bar to pour himself a glass of whiskey. He holds up a second glass, silently asking if I want one, but I wave him off, dialing Chris Branson's number.
"This is Chris Branson."
"Mayor Branson, this is Constantine Attias. I work for Dante Arakas. I'm calling about your daughter. Don't say anything until you're alone."
His sharp intake of breath sounds like static on the line. "You have her."
"We didn't kidnap her, if that's what you're suggesting. That's not how we do things. Are you alone?"
"Yes, goddammit. I'm alone. I want to speak to my daughter."
"I've got a doctor checking her out right now, but she's safe and unharmed. I'll have her call you as soon as she's finished, but you need to get back here. I dealt with the men who took her, but you've got a situation to handle."
"What situation?"
"The people who arranged her kidnapping." I pause. "I'm guessing they're the same ones who stole the ransom money."