It Pains Me (Betrayal #5) Read Online Penelope Sky

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Crime, Dark Tags Authors: Series: Betrayal Series by Penelope Sky
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Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
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I didn’t recoil, but I certainly wanted to.

The SUV pulled over, and we approached the curb. Bolton got out first then helped me out of the vehicle.

Since I’d been sitting on the other side looking the opposite way, I didn’t see the name of the restaurant.

I stilled when I recognized it—realizing it was Scarlett and Axel’s restaurant. The one that Theo had taken me to forever ago. Where Scarlett chatted with us at the table. The terror filled my stomach, and I froze on the cobblestones, adrenaline pounding in my heart.

I didn’t want Scarlett to see me like this.

The bruises were visible on my face. My lips were swollen from where he’d punched me last night. It was obvious to anyone who saw me that I was a battered woman in an abusive relationship, but no one ever intervened. His associates pretended not to notice. Their dates didn’t make direct eye contact with me. And passersby were too scared to get involved.

But if Theo knew, that would be a different story.

I wanted him to save me, but when I’d tried to ask him, he’d ripped me apart, hurt me more than Bolton ever had with just his words. He destroyed my hope. He destroyed my dreams. He wanted nothing to do with me, so I didn’t want his obligation. I didn’t want his help.

I’d rather die this slow and painful death than accept his help.

Bolton moved his arm around my waist and walked me forward.

But I was rooted to the spot like a stubborn mule.

Bolton looked at me. “Everything alright, baby?”

It was a Thursday night. It had seemed like Scarlett wasn’t there often, and even if she were, what were the chances of bumping into her? “I’m fine. These heels just hurt.”

Bolton opened the door for me like some kind of gentleman, and after he checked in with the host, we were led to our table. It was a smooth transition, quick and easy, and that chased away my fears.

It was just Bolton and me, and we immediately ordered a bottle of wine for the table and an appetizer while we waited for whoever the fuck wanted to hire him to kill someone. Now that the danger had passed, I disassociated once more and pretended to be somewhere else.

I forgot his name the second he said it. Forgot the name of his woman too.

They talked business most of the time, details about the hit and payments.

The woman barely had any meat on her bones and picked at her salad like it was too much food.

I was starting to look the same because depression and malnourishment went hand in hand. We ordered several bottles of wine, and I was responsible for about half of what was drunk. My eyes wandered to the other tables, seeing couples having a romantic evening together, a couple of families. I stared at the table where I’d sat with Theo, seeing a new couple there.

I pictured Theo there with someone else, and it made me want to die.

I looked down at my food again and picked at it, spinning my fork in my pasta to see how big of a wad I could make, but never taking a bite. Like a child making mountains out of mashed potatoes and bridges out of the strips of asparagus, I turned my food into a toy of my imagination.

Bolton glanced at me, and when his hand moved to my thigh under the table, I knew that was a warning for me to stop.

Like the obedient dog that I was, I stopped.

“How was dinner?”

I looked up at the sound of the woman’s voice at the next table. She was dressed in all black. Black trousers with a black chef’s jacket. Her dark hair was pulled back in a low bun.

“My name is Scarlett, and I’m the head chef this evening,” she said. “I love to come around and hear what you think. I’m constantly updating the menu, so suggestions are always welcome.”

“Fuck.”

Bolton turned when he heard what I said.

His associate looked at me too then covered his reaction with a sip of his wine.

“Everything alright, baby?” Bolton moved his arm over the back of my chair.

“Uh, yeah.” I covered up my terror and eyed the bathroom on the other side of the restaurant. I could get up and go around her before she noticed I was there. We were the next table on her tour. “I—I have to go to the bathroom.”

Bolton’s arm moved to my hand underneath the table, and he leaned in close. “I hope this isn’t one of your stunts.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I just…feel a little sick.” I eyed Scarlett again, and she seemed to be wrapping up her conversation.

“You don’t look sick.” Bolton continued to speak quietly, but there was no way our dinner guests didn’t hear.


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