Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
“No. It’s more than that. When I saw you were gone, something inside me came to life. Something I’d put to sleep a long time ago.”
She shifted in the bed, facing him. “What happened to you before? When you were still a priest?”
He didn’t share things about himself, certainly not the worst thing he’d ever endured. But he wanted to tell her. Needed to. There was something about Cleo that made him relax.
“It was a long time ago. I lost people I loved. Everyone I loved.”
“They were killed?”
He took a breath. “I was sent to the monastery when I was just a kid. I never thought it was wrong to be sent away from my family because I’d been prepared for it all my life. When I was born, my parents offered me to the church.”
“What? That’s horrible.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was normal in my village. Something special. And even as a kid, I was honored to fulfill my role. But after more than a decade in the church, one day stole everything.”
The local mafia had been growing and building power over the years. They came to the church and ask for blessings but were refused. When the brothers refused to lie and cover up their crimes, they were killed, every last one of them. They wanted to send a message—bend or die. That wasn’t enough. They made every family member related to the priests in the church pay the ultimate price.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, his body tensing when her hand came down on his forearm.
“There’s more to it,” he said. “Something broke inside me that day. Everything good drained away, leaving me a monster.”
“You’re not a monster, Priest.”
“I killed them all, Cleo. I wiped them out. It wasn’t brutal. It was a bloodbath. So much worse than they’d done to me. I wanted them to suffer, to remember my face as they died. And I don’t regret it.”
She’d hate him now, want nothing to do with him. But he couldn’t live behind the lie. Priest wasn’t worthy of forgiveness or love. He was a lost cause.
****
Cleo was speechless. Her heart felt heavy for this man. She wanted to comfort him, to be everything he needed. Being a foster kid herself, she knew the pain of being unwanted and alone in the world. It was a level of trauma few understood. Priest would know. He’d lost all the people he loved.
“They made you into what you are. If it wasn’t for those murderers, I have no doubt you’d still be in the church, living the life you planned.”
“I had a choice,” he said. “I don’t deserve a reward in this life or the next. Not all men get a happily ever after.”
“We all have choices. They shape our lives, and we make the best of the consequences. I didn’t ask to be born and tossed into the foster system. But I made choices not to do drugs or sell my body.”
“You’re better than me.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Priest. I’m saying that just because you did what you did, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. Your circumstances don’t define you. You can still live a good life, find love, have a family.”
“Why don’t you?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t found love or started a family. Why not?”
She shrugged, even though he probably couldn’t see. Her eyes were adjusting to the light, but it was all a mix of light and shadows in the room.
It was a hard question to answer. She was awkward around men and often felt undeserving of love. It was much easier to give advice than it was to take it.
“I’ve been busy working. This city isn’t cheap.”
“That’s an excuse,” he said.
Her defenses went up. “I’m only twenty-four. I just haven’t found Mr. Right yet.”
“Could I be that man? Or does the murder spree and kidnapping disqualify me?”
She froze. Was he actually asking her that? Was he joking? He didn’t seem like the type of man to joke about anything. He was serious to a fault.
Did she judge him? They hadn’t exactly met under the best of circumstances … and he was a hitman. But he’d never hurt her and treated her well considering. She’d had more carefree fun the past few weeks than she could ever remember having. And for some reason, she was flattered he hadn’t killed her.
Cleo couldn’t deny the chemistry growing between them, or the fact he was built like a Greek god. How could she not be attracted to him? It was painful looking and not being able to touch, but she was used to denying herself.
“You and me?” She chuckled nervously. “You have a thing for broke, overweight women with no experience in bed?”
There was no way a man like him would consciously choose her. She was plain and chubby and weird. He was everything. Tall, muscular, and ridiculously sexy. He had that dark, bad-boy quality and made her feel safe and wanted. He was a fantasy. Nothing more.