Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
There’s a photo of him on the sofa at his place, taken through the window. His pants are around his knees. Who’s that under him?
“Remind me of everything I took from you.” Christian’s voice somehow makes its way through the sirens blaring in my head. “Because from what I saw, Siân, you can’t possibly be missing much now. I did you a favor.”
I want to look at him, but I can’t pry my gaze away from the photos. Some of them are at Taj’s, some are from my old house. His partner is always the same.
Kyla. Taj and Kyla. How did I never see it? They’re all over each other. Some of the pictures were shot in full daylight, some at night. He’s behind her in this one. She’s riding him in that one. She let him take her ass while she leaned over the kitchen counter. They sixty-nined on my sofa without even a blanket or towel under them.
So many examples. How long was it going on? She pretended to be my friend. He pretended to give a shit about me. My chest is so tight I can barely breathe. When I try to do it, a sob bursts loose.
“You don’t want to share the bed with me tonight?” he asks, still standing on the other side of this sea of horror. “That’s fine with me. Share the bed with them, instead.” My head snaps up at the sound of the door opening. He strides out, still naked, leaving me alone.
Alone with all this. The evidence of my blindness. It wasn’t just Christian I was oblivious to. Everything was a lie. My relationship with Taj, my best friendship. Was anything real?
I sink to my knees beside the bed and immediately regret it when my torn skin screams a reminder of its existence. Right. Because it’s not enough to have this thrown at me. I have to remember what I went through earlier today, too. With that poor, dead man lying feet away. It was as obscene as what I can’t stop looking at now. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how many of my tears drip onto the images, I can’t stop looking at them.
Maybe I deserve this. The pain of having my blind trust thrown in my face. The pain throughout my body reminded me of how stupid I was to ever believe in Christian. Kyla was a shitty friend, but at least she tried to warn me about him. She was smarter than me. And now she’s gone, too.
Exhaustion sets in before long, and I sink into the bed with the photos still spread out next to me. Tears are still rolling down my cheeks by the time I drift off to sleep.
12
CHRISTIAN
For the past week, I’ve been away tracking down any and everything I can on who has been killing off the crime families. There hasn’t been much development in that department, and now I have to walk into this house and tell my father that we are no closer to figuring this all out than we were days ago.
Every lead I chased led to a dead end. The only solid piece of evidence I’ve been able to find is that it’s a man. Whoever this is doesn’t want to be found? And if I’m honest, I kind of admire his tactics. The level of demented thinking that goes into each of his kills, the precision, the skill, it’s my aphrodisiac. If I weren’t looking for him to put an end to all of this, I’d be more interested in picking his brain.
I exit my car and take the stairs two at a time until I reach the top. It’s a long way up, and I’m slightly out of breath by the time I reach the door. When I push it open and step past the foyer to the kitchen off to the left, I notice Helga walking toward me, carrying a tray of untouched food.
She doesn’t have to tell me it’s from Siân for me to know, but I ask her anyway. “Perché stai riportando un piatto pieno di cibo in cucina?” Why are you taking a full plate of food back into the kitchen? I adjust my slacks up on my hips, and we stop halfway at the center of the hall.
Helga shrugs, a remorseful expression on her face. “Mi scusi, signor Russo. Ho provato. Semplicemente non mangerà nulla.” I’m sorry, Mr. Russo. I’ve tried. She just won’t eat anything.
My blood starts to boil. I’ve been away for nearly six days. Is she telling me Siân hasn’t eaten anything the entire time?
“Per quanto?” For how long? I follow her, waiting patiently for her answer.
Helga sets the tray on the counter and nervously turns toward me while holding out a water bottle for me to take. Servers dash throughout the kitchen, tending to their duties to keep this place running. It’s massive, and while Aldo and Helga have been with us the longest, they can’t do it alone.