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)
“I’m pissed off that she kicked up the dust again. It was hard for me to chase her. It was really fucking hard to tell her about Shayla. I did all of that, and she turned me down. To walk back in and start that shitshow again just when I started to get on with my life pisses me off.”
He gave a slight nod. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Just let it lie.”
Axel looked into his drink for a while. “What did she say about Shayla?”
“Just said sorry. What else is she supposed to say?”
“She didn’t ask questions?”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t have answered them anyway. Wasn’t the time.”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t tell Scarlett about her?”
He shook his head. “Why would I?”
“She’s your wife. Don’t you tell each other everything?”
“I do tell her everything. But my everything—not yours.”
I appreciated that he protected my privacy, even from the love of his life and the mother of his children. He was my priest in the confessional, and my secrets stayed in the box. “You’re a good friend, Axel.”
“I know.” He smirked. “But I prefer brother.”
I smirked back. “I’ll drink to that.” I tapped my glass against his.
We both took a drink.
“Not to mention,” Axel said, “I’m sexy as fuck too.”
13
ASTRID
Like my nerves had been severed from my brain, I felt nothing. I’d become desensitized to both Bolton and my unfortunate circumstances. When I came home, I made dinner like the good wife that I was. Bolton and I sat at the dinner table and had an unremarkable conversation about our day.
We watched TV on the couch afterward. He picked the show, and I just zoned out the whole time. A bottle of wine was with me wherever I went. I’d become a drunk and then, almost immediately, a functioning alcoholic.
Bolton didn’t seem to notice.
When I went to sleep, I passed out from the wine in my belly and got up the next morning to start again.
It was the same day over and over.
My circumstances with Bolton hadn’t changed, so I didn’t know why the fight had left me. Even if Theo hated me, I still needed to leave and start over. Just because Bolton was the biggest mistake of my life and Theo was a different kind of mistake didn’t mean I didn’t deserve happiness. That I didn’t deserve a man to love me the way I should be.
But I just didn’t care.
I expected it to pass, for the storm to disappear and the flames to be rekindled, but nothing changed. My Technicolor world had darkened to shades of gray. Whenever a new shipment of artwork arrived, I barely looked at it. When customers came in, I couldn’t show any enthusiasm for the work at all.
I set the table and placed the dish on the trivet in the center of the table. A new bottle had been uncorked, and I filled my glass nearly to the top without offering Bolton anything.
He sat across from me and stared.
I dished the food onto my plate and started to eat, even my taste buds numb. Food was mush in my mouth, just a means to an end.
Bolton continued to stare at me. “Baby?”
I didn’t even care when he called me that. Baby. Astrid. Sweetheart. What difference did it make? “Hmm?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Why?” I continued to eat, my eyes down.
“Look at me.”
I immediately obeyed, not caring enough about anything to be stubborn. “Why?”
“I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Like what?” I asked. “I do as you ask. I make dinner. I keep my mouth shut. I don’t run or fight. What more do you want from me?”
His throbbing eyes stared at mine. “I want us to be what we were.”
I released a frustrated sigh. “This is the best I can do, Bolton. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Let’s try marriage counseling.”
“What’s that going to do?” I refilled my glass because I’d already had so much of it. “This marriage is dead, Bolton. This is a captor and captive relationship now. I’ll do what you say so you won’t hurt me. That’s what you asked for—and you got it.”
Another week went by, and nothing changed.
I was still dead inside. The only surge of life I felt was when I remembered what Theo had said, that he was seeing other people. Women who were lucky enough to feel him between their legs every night, while I suffered a passionless existence. He could have been mine. If Bolton hadn’t manipulated Theo or if Theo hadn’t taken his deal, I could have a very different life right now.
I could have a man too good to be real.
But I’d made the wrong decision, and now I was trapped.
Maybe I deserved this. For being so naïve and stupid. For getting involved with a man who killed people for a living.
I did something I hadn’t done in a long time and went to the cemetery to visit my parents. They were buried under the same headstone, my mother on the bottom and my father on top, and their names were carved into the marker.