Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
I hadn’t given up hope that I’d survive, but let’s face it, the odds hadn’t ever exactly been stacked in my favor. I’d found Scar though, even if I’d had no right to take her the way I had. Still, all the shit I’d lived through, it was worth it to have had this bit of time with her.
She sat back hard against me when her stomach had finished revolting, and I held her. I just held her because, in a few minutes, I was going to have to let her go. I’d been up most of the night, but I’d let her sleep until the last possible minute. She’d looked so exhausted, and honestly, I was half-afraid she’d find some way to talk me out of this.
That meant this was goodbye. So, I did what I always did. I buried it down and smoothed my features into an unreadable mask—though it was more difficult to do than ever before.
When her stomach had settled and she’d washed her mouth out, I helped her get dressed. She probably didn’t need my help, but I didn’t want to stop touching her. Not yet. Just not fucking yet.
I even kept hold of her hand to retrieve the envelope I’d set aside for her in the closet. It contained the bank account information she’d need to access my accounts, money, deeds to the properties I owned, and a will that bequeathed all of my worldly possessions to her. I wasn’t going to need them where I was going. No doubt, far wealthier men had tried to buy their way out of hell and failed.
She didn’t ask what was inside when I handed it to her. She was looking past it, to the wall inside the closet. There was one picture tacked up there—my wall of family portraits, I supposed. A single picture of Marcos and I outside one of his private estates in the Cayman Islands. She reached for it without a word, and I didn’t stop her when she pulled it down and slipped it into the envelope.
My eyes stung though, so I released her hand and turned to busy myself with random shit. Not only was it a pussy thing to do, but I didn’t get to cry. I’d created this mess, and I deserved this, to have to force her to leave and watch as she drove away with my fucking hard in her hands. I deserved this.
She stepped ahead of me and grabbed one of the boxes from the floor by the bed. I had no idea what was in it, but I didn’t care. Maybe she intended to make good use of the wicked clamp toys after I was gone. Who the fuck knew, but aside from the sexy image it put in my head, what difference did it make? It was all hers—everything I owned.
“Time to go, Scar,” I said. My voice actually sounded hoarse. Maybe I was coming down with something.
She nodded, though she made no move toward the door. She stood there with the envelope and box hugged tight to her chest. I could see the tears dripping down her cheeks, and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her so close despite the box and papers between us.
Eventually, we made it down the stairs. Michael was waiting there. I’d given him her boarding pass, and one for him—in case he wanted to go with her and leave Mexico behind to deal with its own messes. He was tempted—I could see it. Scar had that effect on people. And it brought me comfort to think she’d have him there to help her.
“I’ll join you as soon as I can,” I told her, brushing her hair back from her brow. I wanted to be able to see her whole face one last time.
“You better,” she said, her voice fierce.
It made me smile. She was going to be OK. Scar was strong. I didn’t know anyone stronger. Hell, I wasn’t sure a stronger person existed.
When I kissed her, her lips were just as fierce as her voice had been. I was glad. As much as I loved her submissiveness, I didn’t want that right now. I needed to feel her strength, to know she was a fighter. To know she was going to be fine without me.
Then she was gone. I led her to the garage and watched as Michael drove off with the most important person in the world. The woman with my heart in her hands disappeared down the drive, and she was gone.
Gone. Pain tore through the empty cavity in my chest. She was gone.
I watched the gate close through blurry eyes. Tears—fucking tears!
But with my heart now gone, it was time to be the cold motherfucker I was deep down. I wiped my eyes and strode back into the house. There was no fucking way Mateo Lopez was walking away today. I might die too, but I was taking that son of a bitch with me.