Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
I nod, he taps my shoulder as he walks past me to leave. No kiss or thanks for stopping by. I can’t remember the last time my father cuddled me.
“Goodbye, Mother,” I say as I head toward the door, picking up my purse.
She stays at the office door waiting to talk to my father. “Yes, see you soon.” She doesn’t even look my way when she speaks.
“He said what?” Emma asks, shaking her head. I show her the text message again. “So, does that mean you have to move out of here?”
“No. No way. You think?” Oh gosh, I didn’t even think of that.
“I think you may have to. Otherwise, your father will wonder. And it’s only a year, so just keep everything here, and take what you need there. Then, when it’s over, you can come back as if it never happened.”
“A whole year,” I moan. “That’s so long.” I lay back on my bed and press call, it rings for exactly a minute before the asshole answers. “Will I have to live with you?” I ask, while squeezing my eyes shut.
“Yes.”
I hang up the phone without saying another word.
“He said yes?”
I nod. “He said yes.”
“Okay, so we thought this. Only a year, Carla. Then in the contract it says all evidence will be destroyed. You can do this.”
I open my eyes. “Can I, though?” My phone rings and I put it to my ear. Whiskey has a set ring tone now, which isn’t a particularly nice one.
“I’m at your door, here to answer all your questions. Please, let me in.” I hang up the phone, sit up, and open my mouth but not one single word comes out.
“Carla?” Emma asks, getting off my bed, which I might add is a mess due to me going through my closet to find the perfect outfit to wear to his damn office. Why I cared if I looked good is beyond me.
“He’s here.”
“Shit! Really?” I can see the extra bounce in her step as she runs for the front door, and before I can stop her, the door is flung open, and Emma has her hand on her hip with her blonde pixie cut blowing strands in her face as she looks up to Whiskey who’s standing in my doorway. “You have some nerve, you piece of shit. Who the fuck does that? You need a fucking stick shoved up your ass, so you know what it’s like to be screwed by someone.” Then she steps back and slams the door in his face.
My eyes bulge from my head, and when Emma turns around she’s smiling. “That felt good. Okay, you can talk to him now.” She walks off, smiling as she goes, leaving me standing there with Whiskey on the other side of the door. That is if he hasn’t left already.
Walking up to it, I pull it open with a shaky hand and see him still there. He looks me over as I yank the door open wider to let him in. Whiskey’s dressed in a suit. Much like he was when I went to visit him as I signed the contract. He looked good then, he looks even better now. Whiskey doesn’t have his suit jacket on, just black slacks and a white button shirt, sleeves rolled up showcasing forearms which are strong, tanned, and ones I remember very well when they wrapped around me.
“Your roommate seems—”
“I can hear you, asshole,” she yells, making me smile as I shut the front door.
“Interesting.”
“Good choice of words, asshole,” she yells again.
I pull out a seat at the table. Our apartment is pretty big, almost a loft-style. Very open plan, and our two bedrooms are at the end of where the kitchen and living rooms are located. In between is a large rectangular wooden table with six white chairs surrounding it.
He sits at one end while I sit at the other, being as far from him as possible.
“What do you want to know?”
“When do I have to move in?”
“When the marriage is official. But you should possibly try before that to make your parents less suspicious?”
“What do you get out of this?”
“You,” he states, staring at me.
“No, there has to be more than that. No one just says they want to marry someone and records having sex with them. You had motive. So, tell me, what it is?”
“That I cannot do. Sorry.”
“Does it involve me?”
“No. You were just the bystander. A pleasant one, I might add.”
“Do you do this often?” I ask, dropping my head to the side as I wait for him to answer.
“What, exactly?”
“Arrange marriages for yourself using blackmail?”
He chuckles at my words. “No. And I never intend to do it after you, either.”
I cough and look away.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No. Why should I? Because why do it in the first place? Who’s to stop you from doing this again to another poor woman?”