Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
But it’s through my many failed relationships that I found my true gift: breaking up couples that never should have gotten together in the first place. While that probably sounds more than a little unorthodox for a couple’s therapist, I stand by the services I provide.
That is until I’m hired to do a deep dive on a client’s boyfriend, which goes the complete opposite as planned. Not only does said boyfriend seem more interested in me than he should be, but I’ve discovered he’s actually part of an organized crime ring, making me look guilty by association.
Which leads me to Mason Harris, the FBI’s golden boy. He’s annoyingly protective as well as being a walking red flag…and insists we work together to put the bad guys behind bars and clear my name. The more I push, the more he pulls, and I’m having a hard time fighting my attraction.
I always win the breakup games, but now I find myself purposely wanting to lose.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter
One
MIRA
“Mira! Mira!”
Sharp pain radiates from my shoulder all the way down my arm. I blink open my eyes, startled by the fuzzy figure of a man standing at the side of my bed. Arms crossed, huffing, and shifting his weight side to side.
“Mira!” he repeats and I realize the angry man standing next to the bed is my husband.
“What?” I groan, still half asleep.
“Get up.” He pokes me in the shoulder again, jabbing me with two fingers as hard as he can. He’s always been like this…pushing the line between just being an asshole and being physically abusive. But this time, it hurts.
“Why?” I ask, already knowing what’s coming. The house isn’t on fire. No one called and needed us to rush to the hospital or something.
“Because I said so. I want to talk.”
I slit my eyes open again just long enough to look at the clock. It’s half past one in the morning. “We can talk later.”
“No. Talk to me now.” He jabs me again. Harder. Then again, even harder.
“Cory, stop it.” I close my eyes, just wanting to disappear into the dark abyss of my bed, sinking past the covers, down into the ground, back into the coffin that has been my home for the last three years.
“God dammit, Mira!” His voice booms around me, reverberating off the walls. Violet, my eleven week old golden retriever puppy, sits up and comes closer to me, scared already. “You’re so fucking selfish. You are the reason we have problems in this marriage. It’s not me, it’s you! It’s a Mira Problem.” He spits out the insult as hard as he can, wanting to hurt me. “Even your dad says so. You know he called me the other day and thanked me for marrying you. He said he was so worried you’d be alone forever and knows how difficult you are to put up with.”
My dad? He wouldn’t…but Cory says so. I blink, the logical part of my brain arguing against what I’ve been conditioned to believe.
“It’s late,” I reply, voice small. I’m scared. Scared of being alone. Scared of staying. I want to break free from this horrible man. I want to live a life where I don’t have to worry about waking up to find torn open bags of garbage in my car because I didn’t take out the trash at night…when I was planning to in the morning on my way out of the house.
But I can’t.
Cory throws back the blankets and grabs my ankle, fingers digging into my flesh. “You will talk to me,” he says through gritted teeth. And then he yanks me forward, and I realize it’s been him the whole time, the monster from my nightmares. The shadowy figure I’ve seen as I’ve awoken stuck in sleep paralysis. Something was warning me, something was telling me to run. But now it’s too late.
He pulls again and I—
“Miss?”
My eyes flutter open and I see the flight attendant standing next to me, holding the coffee I ordered. Inhaling, I sit up and try to shake the remnants of the dream away. It’s been two years since I escaped the living House of Horrors, and I still get flashbacks like this. Thanks, long term memory.
“Thank you,” I tell her, taking the coffee. I bring it to my lips and blow before taking a small sip. I’m on a flight back to Chicago from Ireland, and while I slept for the last four hours, I didn’t intend to doze off again. I have work to do before I land, and I’m going from O’Hare right to the barn, where I’m meeting the gang for brunch and a ride.
Curling my toes in and feeling the ground between my feet, I inhale, doing one of the breathing techniques I have my clients do when they’re anxious. As a therapist, I know flashbacks like that are normal. I know I’ll have moments of being triggered throughout my entire life, perhaps.
And I know I’m out. I’m safe. I’m not married to Cory anymore. I haven’t been for two years, but that hasn’t lessened his obsession with me. I shake my head and roll my eyes, thinking about how his mother whipped out her phone and recorded me ordering coffee at the Starbucks Reserve only last Tuesday. What she plans to do with that footage is beyond me. The odd behaviors of others—and the extremes of psychopaths—is what inspired me to go into psychology in the first place. I never thought I’d be applying so much of what I learned in college to my real life.
I update two client files and read through three intake forms by the time we land. Grabbing my bag from the overhead, I sit back down and wait for the line of people to push their way off the plane. Thankfully, I make it through customs and am wandering around the parking lot looking for my car not too long after that.