Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Silence.
Tears prick the side of my eyes from the betrayal. Betrayal from Bryant, from Devon, from my father. Men are disappointing, I need to change to women. His thick body holds me up as our silence turns from seconds to minutes. His heavy breathing dances with mine as we both attempt to catch our breath. Oops.
“Isa,” Bryant whispers, pressing a kiss against the curve of my neck where he just bit. “I love you.”
I can’t get past the irony of his words and the placement of his kiss. Enough bittersweet love to kill you, but the right dose of pain to remind you that you’re alive.
“You don’t.” I push away from him, my fingers flexing against his suit shirt. “If you did, I wouldn’t feel the way I do right now.”
He slowly lowers me to the ground. “You don’t think I’ve protected you?” He zips up his slacks.
I square my shoulders while pulling up my shorts and running my fingers through my now messy, matted, and damp hair. “I know you haven’t, Bryant. Everything is a lie.”
He steps into me, forcing me back against the wall. One hand comes to one side of my head, the other resting against my hip. “Do you love me?”
I take a few seconds to recollect my thoughts. I know that I do, but a big part of me doesn’t want to give in to his ego and say yes, so I say, “I did.” Then I duck under his arm and straighten my clothes while quickly making my way back inside the house. I shouldn’t feel bad for telling him that, I should feel powerful. I want him to hurt, to feel betrayed the way I do, but the ball that’s swelling in my throat and the wild emotions running rampant inside of me right now are telling, like something else.
Something like regret.
I take a seat back at the table, picking up my glass of champagne and swallowing in one go.
“Everything okay, baby?” Devon asks from his chair right beside Bryant. It’s funny, because when I didn’t know their connection, I would think that they could never be friends. Actually, I get the impression that they aren’t exactly friends either, but the more I see them together the more I see their bond. Friendships don’t need to be loud or proud. It’s not about what your friendship looks like to other people, it’s about how that person makes you feel.
“Fine.” I begin cutting into my meat again, the blood seeping out from my steak triggering the memory flash of Bryant sucking off his own blood from my fingernails. Blood that’s still smeared over a couple of my fingers. I flush bright red as my cheeks heat. Damn. But that was hot.
I push my meal out of my way as Bryant moves back into the room, sitting back on his chair, or should I say throne. Reaching for the bottle of champagne, I tip the rest of the dry bubbles into my glass and take another few gulps.
“Hey,” Max says, his hand coming to my knee. He gives it a soft squeeze. I want to squeeze his balls in the palm of my hand just for touching me. “You want me to stay tonight?”
My eyes meet his. “No, it’s okay. I think I need some alone time.”
And now that Bryant has fucked the stupid out of me, I don’t want to be near you for as long as I have to.
Dinner and dessert go through much quieter than when we first started. It was as though the electricity that crackled in the room before Bryant and I fucked some of our tension out simmered down. We could see straight.
Ashley walks into the foyer once I’ve let Max out. I’m sitting on the cold marble floor, my head against the front door and my knees drawn up to my chest. “Mrs. Royal, is everything okay?”
“Ash.” I smile at her. “Just call me Isa, please.”
“Sorry,” she apologizes, kneeling down and taking a seat beside me. I need silence, but the atmosphere is loud. Everything from the gold and diamond chandelier that hangs above me to the marble floors that are laid out all over the house—including the twin staircase. Seriously. Who the fuck puts marble on the stairs? Rich bastard.
“You know, I don’t trust many people. I know a lot of people say that, but I really don’t.” I clear my throat, keeping my eyes fixed on the Banksy piece that’s right in front of me, hanging on the wall. It’s an intense reminder of the love Bryant tries to show without using his words. Ash doesn’t interrupt. “There were two people I trusted with my life. With my daughter’s life.” My throat swells. “And they failed. Now I have no one.”
A soft hand comes to my arm, and I turn toward it out of instinct. “You have me.” Bringing my attention up to Ashley, I take in her soft blonde hair and baby skin. She’s so young, yet so wise. I don’t trust her, unfortunately, but I do like her. You don’t have to trust someone to like them.