Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
“You do not know the first thing about me, Tatum Torrio,” I growl, torn between tearing her to pieces and kissing her until we both run out of air. I’m tempted to throw her to the floor and drive my cock into her until she can’t do anything but scream my name. I want her so bad I can almost taste it, but the temptation is too much. “So be careful with the things you say. You never know what’s going to set me off.”
“You don’t scare me,” she whispers. The tears welling in her eyes tell a different story.
“And you’re full of shit.” I release her with a sneer. “Now go ahead, run up to your room and pout like the child you are. It won’t change anything. What happened last night isn’t going to happen again.” I have to turn away from the blank despair creeping over her, leaving my stuff in the sink and heading straight down to the basement before she can come up with a nasty reply. She has the power to set me off, the power to make me the person I’ve been fighting to never become again.
By the time I’m finished taking out my rage on the heavy bag, it’s smeared with my blood.
CHAPTER 18
TATUM
“On your right.”
I’d swear the guy is a ninja. How does he manage to sneak into a room and startle the shit out of me when I’m only fixing a cup of tea? Not only that, but he’s been working in his office all day, which means he walked down the stairs without me noticing.
Maybe it has more to do with how distracted I am. By what? Ironically enough, by him. I was too busy thinking about him to hear him. Go figure.
How many times do you have to hit something to bruise your knuckles the way he bruised his? It’s been four days since we fought here in the kitchen, and his hand is still purple and swollen when he slides past me to open the cabinet above the stove. I only watch from the corner of my eye – I don’t know why, but I don’t want him to know I care. It’s not like I really care, anyway. I’m more curious than anything else. I mean, I won’t make him an ice pack or something like that. He’d have to admit he needs help first, and he would rather cut out his own tongue than ever act like a normal human.
At the edge of my curiosity is a slight sizzle of fear. His knuckles prove he is nowhere near as controlled and disciplined as he pretends to be. I know there’s something a lot darker inside him. Something so powerful it could flatten everything in a mile radius when it explodes.
“I’m gonna be busy the rest of the day. Work stuff.” He pulls a box of bran flakes from the cabinet and a bowl from the one next to it. It’s early afternoon, and he’s eating breakfast. As far as I know, this is the first time he’s emerged from his office since he holed himself up there before dawn.
“That’s not unusual,” I point out, because it isn’t. He’s busy all the time. What’s the big difference? As far as I’m concerned, it’s another day ending in the letter Y, though the schedule seems a little long. I’d ask what my dad is putting him through, but I know better than to think I’d get an answer.
“I’m just letting you know we’re getting close to shutting Jeff and his supposed attorneys up for good.”
“You’re going to kill them?”
His head falls back so he can stare at the ceiling. “Why would you immediately jump to that?”
“Hmmm, I can’t imagine.”
“You’re wrong.” He looks past me toward the bright, sunny afternoon beyond the kitchen window. “I want you to stay inside today.”
Also, it’s not unusual, but he doesn’t usually come out and announce it like that, either. It’s sort of one of those unspoken things. I know he doesn’t want me to go out. He doesn’t need to say it. But obviously, all that does is make me itch in anticipation of getting out of the house.
“Why?’
His nostrils flare as he pours milk into the bowl, then slams the drawer shut after pulling out a spoon. “Does it make a difference? I’m telling you, do not go outside.”
“Is there some big event that I don’t know about today? An alien invasion? Are all the birds going to suddenly drop dead and start falling out of the sky? Wait, is it going to start raining pancakes?”
Irritation fills his dark features, “Why is it not enough for me to ask you to do something? Why do you always need an explanation?”
“Perhaps I only want an explanation when it seems ridiculous what you’re asking of me. What if I want to sit out on the porch?”