Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Entering the clubhouse again, he placed his hand at the base of Faith’s back, guiding her to his office. He didn’t take her to the room where they conducted church, but to his private office. Stepping inside, he closed and locked the door so they were not disturbed, and walked toward his desk.
Brute pressed in the number and waited. He gave the instructions to the lady on the other end, and then hung up. “Your cab will be here in ten minutes,” Brute said.
“Thank you for organizing it, and, you know, for letting me come and see your club brother. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
Brute looked at her. “Who’s the lucky guy?” He nodded at the ring.
She looked down at the ring and he saw her pale quite a bit.
“I … he’s someone my grandfather knows.”
“And you don’t?”
“No, I’ve met him twice, and the wedding is in two weeks, I think.” She nibbled her lip.
“You don’t even know when your own wedding is?”
“It’s … he … I … it’s confusing.”
“You like him?”
“I don’t know him.”
“But you can’t say no, can you?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head from side to side. Something was different about her.
“He won’t give her a … burial,” Faith said.
“Your mother.” He didn’t need to question it. He knew.
She nodded. “He told me I was supposed to forget her. That she wasn’t important. All I have to do now is exactly as I’m told.”
“And you’re not happy?” he asked.
He took a step toward her. He couldn’t stand to see the tears in her eyes. No one should make Faith cry. No one, not even him.
He didn’t even know why he fucking felt this way. Brute closed the distance and then banded an arm around her waist.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said.
“You don’t need to lie to me. We both know it’s not going to be okay. I … he … everything is a mess.”
He saw the panic in her eyes and he hated it, but he didn’t get to do this when she was last in his company. Then, he pressed his lips against her, silencing all kinds of protest as he kissed her, hard.
Chapter Eight
One Week Later
The bruising hadn’t faded.
Faith sat in front of the bedroom mirror, staring at her reflection. It had been one week since Brute had kissed her. She’s played the kiss over and over in her mind, until she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
His kiss had been hard, and yet she had loved every second of it. His hands had moved from her back, sliding up, sinking in her hair, and then he’d pressed her up against the wall, but all too soon it had been over. There was a knock and someone had called through the door, stating that her cab was there.
The kiss had come to an end, and Brute had walked her out to the cab. As he did so, he warned her. “Faith, you don’t belong here. You’re not welcome here, and the next time you step foot into my clubhouse, you’re going to be sorry. You will never make it back to your grandfather’s.” And with that, he’d slammed the door.
She knew she was the enemy.
When she arrived home, it was to discover the man who had been charged with keeping an eye on her had been killed. Sergey had told her straight that his death was on her hands, and then he had proceeded to slap her across the face, remove his belt, and whip her ten times. She still had the welts on her body. No one had stopped him. No one had cared.
That had been a week ago.
He had told her that she made a fool out of him by going into enemy territory. Now, she would do as she was told. She would be marrying Paul. She would make a good wife. She would bear children, and never would she step out of line again.
Faith felt fear creep up her spine as she tensed up at the steps outside her bedroom. She had been confined to her room. This is where she took meals, and she wasn’t allowed to leave. Only her father and grandfather stepped into her room.
The footsteps walked straight past her room. She kept thinking about Brute. He’d never laid a hand on her, not once.
She felt the tears well up in her eyes and got to her feet, stepping toward her window to look out over the night. It was dark, but the moon was full, casting a beautiful gothic glow over the yard.
In two days’ time, she was going to get married. She couldn’t recall ever being so afraid.
There was a knock at her door, and before she even had a chance to answer, someone stepped through.
Her grandfather never knocked, but her father did. The first time he stepped into her room, she hadn’t been decent, in the process of getting dressed.