Coerced Queen (New York Underworld #3) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: New York Underworld Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
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“Stay,” he says, climbing with a pronounced limp up the steps.

I stay like he ordered, wishing the bottom will open up and swallow me in a grave of bubbles. It’s too late for pride. I’m already humiliated, my self-preservation thoroughly thrashed.

He stands stark naked on the side dripping water all over the deck as he dangles a fluffy robe over the edge. “Here.”

With his cock hanging semi-hard and heavy between his legs in a nest of dark, curly hair, he’s a magnificent male specimen.

I’m reluctant to leave my hiding place in the water. I’ve been a fool to spoil a perfectly beautiful day, the best birthday anyone has given me. Maybe I should just dunk my head under the water and not come up until he’s gone. But he can’t stand without his cane for long, and my skin is already wrinkled from being in the water for almost an hour.

Taking a steadying breath, I lift my chin and stand up in the water, pretending I’m Venus rising from giant scallop shell.

You vowed to love enough for two, remember?

And I’ll be damned before I waste what’s left of the time we have away from the house.

“Thanks,” I say, climbing up the steps and reaching for the robe, but he holds it out of my reach.

“Turn around,” he commands in a gruff tone.

When I’ve obeyed, he helps me to fit the robe. Then he makes me face him with his hands on my shoulders and meticulously ties the knot around my waist. I sense his intention before he lowers his head to claim my lips, but that moment has passed. If he’s not going to kiss me with openness and honesty, I don’t want his kiss. I don’t want a consolation hug because he knows he’s hurt me.

I turn my face away, forcing him to freeze in mid-air. He clenches his jaw but refrains from saying anything. I head for the chairs, choosing the one with the best view, and stretch out on it.

A moment later, his uneven gait sounds on the wooden deck. He stops next to my chair, waiting until I look at him before he gives me a glass of juice.

“You need to hydrate after the Jacuzzi and—” He cuts himself off, not saying the marathon sex he submitted me to. Instead, he settles for a stiff, “And after all that.”

I smile up at him. Like his, the gesture is mechanical. “Thanks.”

And I hate it. I loathe that we’re reduced to this role play, to people who have to pretend and hide our emotions around one another. For a while, I thought we had something. Maybe it’s time to admit I was wrong. I guess I’m on my own. Even when I was with him, I’ve been alone right from the start. He made that crystal clear. He didn’t deceive me with false intentions or lies. He never gave me hope. My stupid heart managed that all by itself. But if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s at surviving alone. I know how to do that better than anything in life, and I can do it without being miserable. I refuse to make myself unhappy just because Saverio is incapable of returning my feelings. It’s not his fault. It’s not mine either. It’s just the way it is. I’ll cope like I always do. I’ll carry on surviving and find joy in my daughter. I’ll give Claire the life she deserves, the life I never had with my mother, and that will be enough.

When Saverio has lowered himself onto the chair next to mine, I take a sip of the fruit cocktail, refusing to feel guilty that he had to pour and carry the juice to me while balancing his steps with the cane.

I try to tap into that earlier feeling of total relaxation, fixing my gaze on the magnificent view.

We lounge together in a strained silence until I admit defeat and give up on finding peace.

I finish my juice and get up. “I’m going to have a shower before Claire wakes up.”

Needing space and time alone, I don’t invite him to join me. He follows my exit with his gaze, not saying a word as I escape to the master bedroom upstairs where I finally give in and cry.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Saverio

* * *

I sense Anya’s unhappiness, and it doesn’t sit right with me. If I could, I’d fix it because I want her birthday to be perfect, but love is the one thing I can’t give her. I hoped this day and tonight would be enough, but my girl isn’t easily placated by material incentives or bling. Anya is a down to earth, perfectly sweet, honest to God good girl. What matters to her are the things money can’t buy. It’s just one of the many qualities I love so much about her. This time, though, this remarkable character trait counts against me.


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