Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
I pause when I see another two texts from Eli from around the time I walked on stage.
Tin Man
You look stunning.
My wife is many infuriating things, but she’s undeniably beautiful.
I hold on to the chair as heat slithers through me and wraps its greedy fingers around my neck like a noose.
What is he doing?
What’s this complete change from a certified bastard to…a flirt? An actual husband?
This doesn’t play in favor of my latest revenge plan.
Maybe he’s also plotting something himself? Like breaking me to pieces once and for all?
If that’s the case, I’ll drag him with me to the depths of hell even if it’s the last thing I do.
My phone vibrates again and I hold my breath but release it when I see my sister’s name.
Ari
I can’t believe that bully actually kicked me out before I got to congratulate you in person! Sending your performance video to Mama and Papa as we speak. You were the bomb, sissy! So proud of you!
Me
Thanks, Ari. I’m lucky to have you.
It’s the other way around, silly. Also, should I come back in there and teach my brother-in-law a lesson or two? But, like, bring Lan for backup?
Drop the act. I know you like Eli and that the two of you talk all the time behind my back.
How…do you know that?
I pause. Right. How do I know? Before the accident, Ari was always an annoying little shit that neither Eli nor anyone aside from Bran, Cecy, and Glyn gave the time of the day. I would’ve never accused her of liking Eli when she conspired with Lan to start a small fire in his car after he rejected me. When she was barely fourteen.
Truth is, I’d have to recall something in the last couple of years to make that allegation.
My sister comes to the same conclusion.
You remember something?
No, not really. I’m not sure why I thought that. I have no actual memories to back it up.
That’s fine. I’m glad you’re getting there little by little.
Me, too.
I love you, Ava. You know that, right?
Love you, too, Ari.
Would still kick Eli for you. Want me to come back?
That’s okay. I think it’s time I properly face my marriage.
I don’t tell her that while I’m finally accepting this wretched marriage, I’m doing it for very wrong reasons.
Once I’m done with Eli King, he’ll regret ever marrying me.
15
AVA
The last thing I’d accuse my husband of is being romantic.
He’d need to have feelings to ever be able to endure such a task and the world knows he’s a Machiavellian at heart and a devil at soul.
So imagine my bemused surprise when he takes me to a refined rooftop French restaurant with a stunning night view over the City of London.
Luxurious velvet chairs in a deep wine-red hue encircle round tables adorned with delicate lace and shimmering silk tablecloths. Glamorous dimmed lights cast a romantic glow over the elegantly decorated platforms. Soft music fills the air, creating an atmosphere of affluent sophistication.
Heads turn when we enter the restaurant, following an eager-to-please waitress. The blonde is definitely not deterred by Eli’s hand at the small of my back and bats her fake lashes at him.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she slipped her number beneath his napkin or in his coat.
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. It’s been years, but he’s still annoyingly popular with girls. In fact, his irresistibility is possibly way worse if one whole wife and the ring on his finger don’t seem to discourage the flirtatious behavior.
I might be married to him, but I don’t have any sense of ownership over him.
Not that I would want that.
I’m probably more peeved about the disrespect.
Eli orders nonalcoholic champagne with our food. Once the waitress is gone, I sip on my water. “Can’t you be less obvious?”
He takes meticulous care in unfolding and placing his napkin on his lap. “About?”
“Your attempts to keep me off alcohol. You can drink, you know.”
“And present you with temptation? I’ll have to decline.”
Your existence is the worst temptation, so I don’t see the problem.
I press my lips together, furious at myself for even entertaining that thought.
Clearing my throat, I nibble on a piece of bread with butter. “Can I ask you something?”
“Since when do you need permission to ask me anything?”
“True.” I shrug. “How did I get off my…alcohol issues?”
“Alcohol addiction, you mean.”
“It wasn’t that serious.”
“It was serious enough that you were more drunk than sober.”
“Yeah, well. Not all of us have the mental capacity of a sociopath. I don’t need you to judge me. I only want to know how I got off it. Did I undergo rehab?”
“Do you believe yourself to be the type of person who’d willingly admit themselves to rehab?”
My knife and bread suspend in midair as I purse my lips. He’s mocking me. I can see it in that tinge of amusement mixed with savage interest in his eyes.