Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Liam didn’t even knock as they stepped into the room. Roman didn’t know what he expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t Alex pacing the room. Staring at her now, in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she looked so … composed.
“Dad?” Alex asked, and she rushed forward.
This was an embarrassment. His wife didn’t speak to him. She didn’t even look to him for comfort, and with one glance at his father, he knew this wasn’t good for the Greco name. All his life, he’d done what was required of him, fulfilled his part of the agreement when it came to his father.
“Did Roman tell you what happened?” Alex asked.
“Of course.”
“I don’t know what was going on. One moment we were, like, I don’t know exactly what we were doing, and then bam.”
What Alex said didn’t make any sense to him. She didn’t tell her father that he dragged her off campus, or that he yelled at her.
Who was Alex Smith? Why was her father so convinced of her innocence? How did he know that they hadn’t consummated their marriage?
The only way Liam would know this was if Alex told him. She had to have.
Roman didn’t buy this act. Women were always after something. All he had to do was find out what Alex was after, and once he did, he’d be able to deal with her.
“Those men were after you,” Liam said. “You are in danger, and I think it’s time you came back home.”
Chapter Three
Alex was eight when she first learned that her father was a … bad man. Well, not a bad man, but a man who was used to getting what he wanted, and he had his own rules for getting things done.
She had woken up from a nightmare. She couldn’t even remember what the dream was about, but it had scared her. Another reason why she would never watch horror movies, not even now. There was no way she was going to be scared, willingly. She’d needed to use the bathroom, and then after going to the toilet and washing her hands, she’d needed a drink. Being the big brave girl that she was, she’d gone downstairs to the kitchen to have a drink. A nice cold glass of milk, which her dad had told her would make her feel so much better.
It was halfway down the glass of milk when she saw the hooded figure in the reflection of the fridge. He’d been wielding a knife, ready to strike, and even young, she knew she should fear what was about to happen.
Her father had been there.
She later found out that her father had been watching the man sneak onto his property and had simply waited for the right moment to strike. What Liam hadn’t been prepared for was his little girl, scared and thirsty, coming downstairs to enjoy a drink.
From that day forward, he was honest with her. At first, she’d been afraid, but she knew there were bad people in the world. Her dad wasn’t the biggest bad person, and he cared in his own way. He told her so many stories of life on the streets, of the fears he had as a boy, and then how he used them to get to where he was today.
Alex watched as her father and her husband stood toe to toe, yelling at each other. Liam wanted her to come home, and the truth was, she wanted that as well. To come back home. Being married to Roman was … boring and difficult. This wasn’t a fairytale ending. Not that she’d ever sought that.
Alex had never planned her wedding. She’d never looked through catalogs and thought about the big day. She’d thought about a future where she was whoever she wanted to be, even though she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to do or be. When she talked to teachers and career advisors, they always said there was time to figure it out. To find the path she wanted to take and to let it flourish properly.
Having a big family wasn’t a career, and it meant having a guy in her life, and she didn’t want to be with men. She had hated guys growing up because they were mean. She’d never had the slender body or the looks that men loved.
Mousy, curvy, and quiet. That was often how she was described. Even her dad had once said that she was Daddy’s little mouse. As a nickname, it wasn’t sweet or cute. It was kind of gross.
“Stop,” Alex said.
They didn’t stop.
She closed her eyes and stepped away, pacing. That car was waiting for her, to take her away, and they were arguing.
Alex hated this. They were not listening.
She glanced around the room and didn’t want to think of what actually happened here. A lamp was available. She reached for it and then threw it across the room so it hit the wall with a loud crash, breaking apart as it landed in pieces on the floor.