Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“He gave me no mercy, so he deserves none himself.”
A flash of anger moved across his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”
With that enraged expression, I expected him to scream at me, but his fury seemed to be reserved for himself. “It’s okay—”
“It’s not okay. I prioritized my own anger over your words. It was petty and low. Like it was a fucking game, I cared more about winning the match than letting you speak. The women and the booze were a shitty antidote, so I went for closure instead. I’m fucking sorry.”
“I could have tried harder.”
“Don’t make excuses for me. I’m a man who takes accountability for my mistakes. And this was a big fucking mistake with immeasurable cost.”
“Theo, I’m not your responsibility, so you’re being too hard on yourself—”
“Any woman who comes to me for help is my responsibility.”
My arms tightened over my chest as I felt the same flush of affection for him that had never died. If I’d left Bolton and chosen Theo, this outcome probably would have been the same. People would have died. And Bolton or Theo would be dead right now. It was never going to be a simple choice.
“I made you cry then taunted you for it. You dashed into the bathroom to hide your tears, and I just fucking left.” His eyes dropped down. “I’m ashamed of my behavior.”
Bolton could strike me without remorse, but Theo hung himself at the guillotine for minor crimes. The measure of these men was incomparable, and I hated myself for not seeing the difference sooner. “I’m ashamed that I chose Bolton over you. Biggest mistake of my life.” I didn’t look at him as I said those words because of the shame. I didn’t expect his forgiveness, and I wouldn’t strive for it. I didn’t justify it either, because it didn’t matter anymore. I could tell him how much I’d thought about him these last few months, how jealous I’d felt at the idea of him being with other women, how I’d fantasized about the life we could have had when I was stuck in my misery. But I didn’t deserve to say any of those things. “You didn’t take my call, but you showed up when it mattered most.”
He didn’t say anything to that, not that I expected him to.
The desperation and the longing were too much. I wanted to be held by him, to get into that big bed and feel his body warm the sheets. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and look into his espresso eyes. But he wasn’t mine anymore—and he would never be mine again. I had to distract myself. Otherwise, I’d lose it. “So, what happens now?”
There was a long pause as he stared at me, like he was lost in his own thoughts. “You’ll stay here until I kill him.”
“You could put me somewhere else. Like a hotel or another property. If we do the transfer in secret, he shouldn’t figure out where I am.”
“I want you here with me.”
My eyes found his, hanging on the hook of his words.
“If he comes for you, he’ll have to come through me, and then I’ll finish this.”
I was given a spare bedroom down the hall from Theo. His butler gave me a supply of clothes and toiletries, so I would be able to shower and change my outfit. It was a nice room, with a large bed, a sitting room, and a big bathroom. It was much smaller than Theo’s, but still a dream.
I sat on the couch and examined the room, the floral bedspread, the champagne-pink rug on the floor that matched the curtains that were drawn open over the windows. A pile of books was on the coffee table, along with a little vase of pink roses. It was clean, like his butler had it deep-cleaned, even though no one ever slept there. With coffered ceilings and wallpaper and artwork and sculptures, it was a bedroom from a magazine spread. Even though Bolton was wealthy, he never cared about the home aesthetic. He didn’t think an interior decorator was necessary. Didn’t trust anyone enough to have a butler or a chef. That meant all the household responsibilities had fallen to me.
I’d showered and changed into silk pajamas, the sunlight coming through the open curtains. My eyes were dead tired, but I still couldn’t sleep, not after the fire and the chaos that had happened during the night.
I still couldn’t believe I was there and Bolton wasn’t. I could literally do anything I wanted without repercussions. I could get on a plane or a train. I could walk to a coffee shop. Theo was a criminal warlord who killed without remorse, but to me, he was a gentle giant. His heart was made of pure gold.