Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Can you escort me to the bathroom?” I ask, offering him my hand. He pauses and looks down at it. He crushes his mask in his fist but takes my hand. Making our way out of the room, conversations continue behind us, but no one says anything loud enough for us to hear. As soon as we get to the bathroom, I go into the stall and close the door while he leans against the counter.
“Don’t let them get to you,” I tell him.
“It’s not me they’re talking about. It’s you,” he replies. “Words hardly affect me. They could call me the worst asshole to grace this earth, and I wouldn’t care.”
I pull open the door and see him watching me. After I wash my hands, I then step in front of him, put my arms around his waist, and lean into him. “So why are you mad? I can feel you are.” I bury my nose in his neck, breathing in his scent. He smells expensive. And delicious.
“They don’t have permission to speak about you in any manner.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” He wraps both arms around me and kisses the top of my head.
“I could…help you forget,” I coo, my hand sliding between us. As I palm his cock through his pants, it jolts.
“I would never turn you down, but tonight I have to.” He steps back, but before he gets too far, he leans in and kisses me on the lips, stealing my breath away. When he pulls away, he lingers. “I think I’m falling in love with you.” His words make my heart skip a beat, and he doesn’t wait for me to respond before he grabs my hand and leads me back to the room. He pulls my seat out when we get to the now quiet table and sits next to me.
“I really want to fuck that whore, Zuko. Seriously, how much for her? If you don’t share, I’ll find her and fuck her anyway.”
Zuko’s eyes lock on mine at the man’s taunt.
Some of the others laugh, agreeing with him, before he smiles at me and says, “Cover your ears, Trouble.”
He waits for me to just do that. And then I sit there, shocked, as he lifts a gun and, without warning or moving from his seat, shoots the man next to him in the head, then goes around the table until each and every man is dead, leaving only his brothers, Pops, and Pop’s “date.”
He pauses his shooting spree with the gun aimed at Pops, who is smiling like he is happy with what Zuko has just done. We’re all covered in blood, and the food is now inedible, and he still hasn’t lowered the gun.
The woman next to Pops is screaming, and she can’t seem to shut up. Kenzo is closer to her, so he leans over, and whacks her over the back of the head. She falls face-first into her plate of food. I sit there, stunned, not sure how we got to this point.
“You wouldn’t shoot me, Zuko. I’m the only father figure you know. You would kill me over a girl?”
That seems to make Zuko madder as his finger tightens on the trigger.
I can’t move.
It’s like my hands are glued to my ears.
And now I understand why he wears black.
“You better apologize to Alaska right the fuck now. And if you think you can get away with mistreating her again, then think again,” Zuko warns.
“Yeah, bastard gave me a black eye over her,” Kyson grumbles, grinning. “He will for sure kill you over her.” He chuckles.
Pops seems to finally understand what’s happening.
“You don’t even know her,” Pops argues.
“I know her well enough,” Zuko replies. “Apologize. This is your only chance.”
Pops glares at me and grinds his jaw before he says, “I’m sorry. I won’t talk in that manner to you again.”
I don’t respond.
I think a part of me is frozen on the spot.
I knew Zuko was a little crazy. I mean, I’m not dumb. But holy shit.
“Trouble…” He hands the gun to Kenzo. Kenzo takes it and slides it into his waistband.
“Is that why you didn’t want head? You didn’t want me to see the gun?” I ask him stunned and my mind going completely blank from what just happened, referring to our moment in the bathroom, but a small part of me is wondering if he really said no earlier because he was hiding his gun from me.
Someone coughs, and someone sounds like they are choking as he reaches for me and pulls my hands down from my head.
“Yes, you would have freaked.”
“You’ve done worse to me with a knife,” I remind him.
He smirks and cups my face. “Ready to go home?”
“Home,” I say, and he stands, offering me his hand again. I take it. And I wonder if I will take it for the rest of my life. I keep on taking his hand, even knowing who he is, and I wonder why.