Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“You realize you could’ve witnessed it for yourself, don’t you? She set a ticket aside for her loving mother to attend the ceremony.”
The silence on the other end of the call speaks volumes. My ex’s mind is not the mystery she wishes to believe it is. It infuriates her, knowing I find it easy to read her thoughts—or at least the selfish motivations at the core of her behavior.
While she silently scrambles for a worthwhile excuse, I prompt, “Let me guess. You forgot about it.”
“And what if I did?”
“If so, you would need extensive amounts of professional help, considering our daughter reached out to you on multiple occasions.”
“Do you have any idea how many—”
“If I can remember an event with everything else on my mind, you sure as shit should be able to.”
“Did it ever occur to you it was you I wanted to avoid?” She’s a master at turning any situation around and making herself the victim. Is that sniffling I hear? Yes, she sprinkled one in there. Typical. Did I mention she’s fucking great at manipulating situations?
“If I’m able to put the past aside for the sake of Tatum’s happiness, I know you can.” When she sputters more of her pitiful excuses, I cut her off with a growl. “Forget it. As usual, Tatum didn’t need you there today. I’m sure she’s realized she can’t count on you by now.”
She snorts. “Wow, and you’re the perfect father?”
Not even close. I’ve fallen short in more ways than I can count. I’m not the loving, touchy-feely father from one of those sitcoms that were so popular when I was a kid. That could never be me.
But I like to think my daughter could come to me if she’s in trouble. That she knows my only interest is her well-being and happiness. I do my best to keep her out of the darker aspects of my business, the way so many parents do when their work isn’t exactly decent fodder for conversation. I can be a good parent without the mushy heart-to-heart talks.
“I’m a damn good parent, and we both know it, and even if I wasn’t, at least I’m trying.” Silence fills the receiver, and I continue a moment later. “And since your memory seems to have slipped so badly, allow me to remind you of something that might come in handy.”
Lowering my voice to a threatening snarl, I say, “We both know you hid out today to avoid discussing the paperwork you’ve conveniently forgotten to sign. Let me share this little tidbit of knowledge with you. It would be easier to have you killed than to deal with your bullshit stall tactics. Do you understand?”
“Is that a threat?” She snickers, but I’m not fooled. I hear the tremor in her voice, the fear leaking through her words. She knows I’m not bluffing, not entirely. If anyone knows what I’m capable of, it’s her. When it comes to protecting our daughter and my businesses, I’ll go to any lengths. Even illegal ones. Ones that could get me put behind bars for a long time.
“A reminder,” I murmur. “Do you hear that ticking in the back of your head? It’s not your biological clock, though, that must be banging like a gong at this point. It’s the ticking that began the moment those papers arrived at your front door. The very generous offer I made isn’t going to get better. This is your only chance. Sign them, or else you’ll learn how big of an asshole I can really be.”
“Ooo. I’m shaking,” she taunts.
“The clock is ticking,” I remind her again, ignoring her childish attempts at luring me into a fight. Next thing I know, she’ll tell me she’s rubber, and I’m glue.
No, I have better things to do than question why I ever bothered with this woman. That’s why I end the call without another word and head to the private bathroom attached to my office to take a piss. Amanda is history, an unfortunate mistake that I can’t entirely write off because she gave me the greatest gift of all. Tatum.
But she’s in the past.
Immediately, my brain asks: does that mean Bianca is the future?
I stare at myself in the mirror. Hot water runs in the sink long enough to steam the glass while the angel and devil on my shoulders fight it out. The lines etched between my eyebrows speak of the struggle I face.
This is entirely wrong, on a level much deeper and more profound than the wrongs I’ve committed up till now.
Somehow, there’s no getting Bianca out of my head. No ridding myself of the notion of having her. It was difficult enough to keep my hands off her before I watched her watching me.
Now? The word impossible comes to mind.
BIANCA
Tatum: Sorry, running late. Long story.
She could be running late for several reasons, but knowing her like I do, it probably has more to do with Kristoff than herself. He probably picked a fight or tried to brush off the plans we made, and Tatum takes no shit from anybody and never backs down from an argument. Part of me wants to tell her to leave him behind, but that’s not what a good friend does.