Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I let her go—reluctantly—and within half a minute, she’s out of the shower and curling a towel around her still somewhat chilled body.
“I’ll get it,” I advise, my tone announcing my command isn’t a suggestion. Her towel barely covers her voluptuous curves, and although Aaron left with only the slightest incentive—I would have given more than a donation to his campaign to have five minutes alone with Octavia—I can’t be guaranteed Fitz cleared out the extra personnel we brought in when I spotted Silas mockingly staring at me on the ferry.
He wanted me to spot him that day, and I played right into his hand when I took his bait for the second time in my life.
“Why wouldn’t Caleb use his key?” I ask when the buzz vibrates again, longer this time.
My speed increases along with agitation when Octavia answers me with a nonchalant shrug. Caleb has three keys because I made the locksmith supply extra copies when I had the lock fixed after Monday Movie Marathon. I hated the thought of Octavia having nothing but a flimsy lock between her and many of the perps in the building surrounding hers. The records Fitz showed me had me even more determined for Octavia to eventually live fulltime at the penthouse. I just couldn’t let her in on my plan until she warmed to the idea of me spending so much money on her.
My annoyance almost takes a back seat when a strong flower scent wafts into my nose following the abrupt opening of Octavia’s door, but the large bouquet of flowers doesn’t simply hide a nosy florist spying on his clientele. It reveals the devil’s imp has been let off its leash, and he wants Octavia to be his next plaything.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Silas?” As Silas places the flowers onto the entryway table, I tug Octavia behind me, my need to protect her far outweighing running from a monster from nightmares.
Silas smiles a slick grin while running his hand across the stubble on his chin. “Lookie here, lookie here. The rumors are true. You finally found someone capable of inflating that limp dick of yours.” My jaw tightens so quickly it almost cracks when he shifts his eyes to Octavia. “I wonder if he’ll feel the same when I tell him who you are because you haven’t told him, have you?”
“Talk to fucking me,” I demand when he speaks to Octavia as if I’m not in the room. “She isn’t a part of this, Silas, and you won’t be any more if you don’t leave right now.”
My words are strained through clenched teeth. I am angry and mad, but most of all, I’m fucking petrified that he’s going to share all my dirty secrets with Octavia before me.
She doesn’t deserve to find out like this. No one should be told their boyfriend doesn’t deserve to breathe air, much less relish the oxygen she breathed back into his veins.
“You walked away with thirty million dollars, but you won’t get one penny of that if you don’t keep your end of the deal. You signed an NDA—”
“For what happened to you!” Silas yells, going with the same excuse he always used. He hates that I have a majority of the vote on anything that occurs with the payout we got for an incident that occurred to us back in our teens because, in the eyes of the court, I am Priest Maskretti’s only victim.
I was four the first time he showed an interest in me. I was from a broken home, and my father was an abusive alcoholic, so my mother thought he’d be a good influence, that his upstanding morals and ties to the community would stop me from spending my youth in and out of juvenile detention as my father had.
I was six the first time Priest Maskretti inappropriately touched me.
Eight when he asked me to return the favor.
I didn’t know what we were doing was wrong until I was twelve and Silas was eighteen. That’s how well Priest Maskretti groomed his ‘little boys.’ They never spoke, not even while being grilled by detectives Marissa’s dad worked with before he was killed on duty.
I wouldn’t have come forward at all if it hadn’t been for Marissa. She tried to get me to talk for years, but it was only when she jimmied the lock to the bathroom and saw the marks herself did she finally get me to open up.
The floodgates were only opened once, then they were jammed shut until now.
My focus returns to the present when Silas shouts, “No one cared about the rest of us! No one asked us what we wanted!”
“Because none of you would come forward. You left me out there swinging the bat by myself.” I can’t breathe through the anger enveloping me. I can’t think straight, which means I blurt out stuff I shouldn’t be saying in front of other people. “I was a fucking kid, Silas. Toward the end, you were a grown man. You should have said something.”