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)
The woman donates to orchestras as if they’re charities. Apparently, some of them are struggling and they wouldn’t be able to continue doing cheap shows for the general public without hefty donations from families like ours.
She pauses on a familiar envelope, then opens it carefully. Her eyes skim over the lines, and with every word she reads, they sparkle, turning glittery blue by the time she finishes.
Her lips fall open with a gasp. “Oh, my word.”
“Good news?” Sam asks when I remain quiet.
Partly because I read the letter over her shoulder.
“The best. I’ve been asked to play at an event organized by one of the arts foundation NGOs.”
“And you’ll do it? I thought charities were beneath your musical talent.”
She whips her head in my direction as if she just realized I’ve been there all along. The blasphemy of forgetting my existence. No one but this headache of a woman is able to do that.
Not only that, but she has the audacity to glare. “I never said that.”
“I thought it was a given with how snobbish you were about competitions.”
“You thought wrong. I’m lucky to be part of a cause. Besides, I only did the competitions to prove something.”
“Which is?”
“My ability to perform… Forget it. I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this.” She shrugs me away as she stands up, but her mood doesn’t seem dampened in the least. “I need to go practice and shop for a new dress! This is so exciting.”
She walks away with that gentle sway in her hips, then turns around. “Can I use the pink Mercedes? If you say no, I’ll use it anyway.”
“Since when do you ask for permission to use our cars?”
“Your cars.”
“Our.”
“There is no our.”
“I beg to differ.”
She narrows her eyes, but, apparently, she has no intention of ruining her mood, because she shakes her head. “Thanks.”
“My, and here I thought you were incapable of gratefulness.”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing, but a smile must escape, because Ava stares at me as if I’m a curious world wonder.
One that solely exists wherever she is.
It’s a ridiculously meticulous obsession at this point, and the worst part is that I have no intention of altering anything.
“The driver will wait in the car,” I say. “I also called you some company for shopping, but she can also join you while you practice or whatever you fancy.”
She blinks twice and I see the innocence that provoked this entirely foreign part of me.
The part that’s made it my mission to steal her, cage her, and allow her no way out.
“Who’s the company? Not Mama and Papa, I hope?”
“Considering your father still goes into phases where he loves to chase me away with a knife, I’ll say no to that.”
She tips her head back and laughs, the joyful sound echoing around us like her favorite Bach music.
I’m enchanted, enthralled, absolutely rooted in place with nothing better to do than watch her smile at me genuinely for the first time in…six years.
Up until now, I’ve been the subject of either her glares or fake smiles. Never the reason behind her laughs and sunshiny personality.
“Is your father’s illogical hatred toward me so funny?”
“Well, he doesn’t trust your character, which I find nothing wrong with. I’m glad that at least one thing hasn’t changed.”
“Many things haven’t.”
“I suppose.” She shrugs. “So who’s the mysterious company you called for me?”
Henderson reappears, accompanied by a tall ginger girl, all legs and no curves, unlike my beautiful wife.
But then again, no other woman is comparable.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.” Bonneville pats down her knee-length dress that’s fit for Wimbledon or horse racing events.
Ava’s smile falters only for a bit before she hugs her. “Gem, what a lovely surprise. What are you doing here?”
“I was invited by Eli for some brunch.”
“You were, huh?” Ava stares between us with a mysterious glance I can’t decipher, but she’s been a fucking vault these past two years, so I’m lucky she’s even talking again.
“I gathered Ms. Bonneville would keep you company,” I say.
“Please, call me Gem, or Gemma,” she says with a toothy grin, and did Ava just roll her eyes?
“I’ll leave you to it.” I grab Ava by the waist and drop a kiss to her cheek, dangerously close to her parted lips. “Behave.”
“Only if you do,” she throws back with a venomous tone before she turns and walks to the stairs, or more like stomps.
A disgusting skeletal hand lands on my arm as Bonneville offers me a polite smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“I don’t remember giving you such a task, Ms. Bonneville. Just be a good sport and entertain my wife to the best of your ability.”
“Yes…I mean, I understand.”
She’s a sheep, but she’s the only useful person in Ava’s ex-unorthodox friend group and she doesn’t hesitate to offer any form of information I ask for. She’s the reason I was able to effectively ruin all of my wife’s ex-love interests.