Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Message received.” I hung up on her.
She didn’t call back.
19
LAURA
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I sat at the small dining table as I worked on my laptop, a glass of red wine beside me. My eyes flicked to the entryway and the shadow under the door. It was past eight in the evening, and only one person stopped by unexpectedly whenever he felt like it.
I opened the door and gave him a cold stare.
In his leather jacket, black jeans, and thick boots, he looked like he was born out of darkness. His arms hung at his sides, and he stared at me with eyes so dark they looked like bullets.
My hand remained on the door. “What’s the magic word?”
His eyes were still as they burned into my face. He didn’t seem to breathe, didn’t seem to move at all. Sometimes the only way I knew he was alive was when my hand rested on his chest and felt his heartbeat. “I’m sorry.”
That was easier than I expected. My hand dropped from the door, and I returned to my chair at the dining table.
He shut the door and followed me to the table, taking a seat across from me, a man far too big for my cheap little chairs. His knees were wide apart, and his hands rested together in his lap.
I closed my computer then tucked my legs against my body. I was in little pajama shorts and a cotton sweater that left one shoulder bare. My makeup was long gone because I hadn’t expected my lover to stop by after the way he’d behaved. That was yesterday, and I hadn’t heard from him since.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off me. “You’re still angry.”
“Yep.” I grabbed the wine and took a drink.
“I apologized.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m ready to accept that apology.”
His eyes dropped momentarily. “You shouldn’t have called me.”
“I was worried—”
“Don’t ever worry about me.” His eyes were back on mine, commanding.
“That’s like asking me not to care about you. Impossible to do.”
He turned quiet, just watching me. “In case this isn’t obvious, I’m not the kind of man that talks. I don’t control or temper my emotions. I scream. I yell. And I kill people. That’s how I express myself. So, when I’m angry—stay the fuck away from me.”
“You control your emotions with me.”
“You’ve never seen me angry.”
“I don’t know… You seemed pretty angry about Victor.”
He went quiet again, crafting his response in silence. “If I behaved the way I wanted to behave, this would be over. I had no other option but to remain calm.”
“You could have remained calm when I called. I just wanted to talk to you—”
“And I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“Then why did you answer?”
“Because if I didn’t, you would worry.”
I drank from my wine again. Didn’t bother to offer him any. “What made you so upset?”
There was a flash of anger across his face. “I told you I don’t talk.”
“But you do talk. You’ve told me about your parents, about the woman who made the biggest mistake of her life by leaving you, and the fact that you killed some asshole with your bare hands. You do talk, Bartholomew.”
He looked away slightly and released a chuckle. “Biggest mistake of her life…”
“What?”
He released a quiet scoff. “Nothing.”
I stared at the side of his face and waited for him to say something more, but he didn’t. “Point is, you share your life with me. Why is this any different?”
He looked at me again.
“Talk to me.”
He released a quiet sigh. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“I must warn you—I’m the villain in this tale.”
Goose bumps formed on my arms.
“You aren’t going to want to fuck me anymore after I tell you.”
“You still wanted to fuck me after I told you I was raped.”
“Not the same thing, sweetheart,” he said. “At all.” He watched me across the table, observing the features of my face.
“I can handle it.”
“We’ll see about that.” He left the chair and helped himself to my kitchen, pouring himself a glass of wine before he took a seat. “I told you I have one friend. Benton.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“And I told you that I helped him get his daughter back from the acid-dealing freaks at the camp.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I left out one small detail…” He took a drink before he set down the glass. “I was the one who put her there in the first place.” His fingers rested on the stem of his glass as he looked at me, waiting for my reaction.
It took a few seconds for me to understand the implication of his words. “Why-why would you do that?”
“It was the only way I could get Benton back. The original plan was for his ex to be taken, the mother of his daughter. He had no affection for her, but I knew he would do anything to get her back for his daughter. I knew he would ask me to help him get Beatrice back—and in return—I would demand his servitude. But unfortunately, those assholes deviated from the plan and decided to take his daughter too. When Benton found out the truth, he was angry at me, angry enough to shoot me. Every time I think the betrayal is behind us, it’s resurrected. He hates me all over again—and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.” He took another drink, his shoulders heavy, his handsome face tight with unease.