Only For Him Read Online W. Winters, Willow Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
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My own heart skips a beat. At the very least, they understand each other, Declan and my mom, even if they don’t realize it yet. They both love me more than anything else. It’s something not everyone in the world gets to experience, being loved by two people like this. There have been times in my life that I thought I couldn’t get any unluckier, but now it’s crystal clear.

And that kind of love…that’s a true gift. One that shouldn’t ever be taken for granted.

I make my own silent promise to always, always remember this moment. The serious way Declan looks at my mom, with the obvious desire for acceptance. The way she looks back at him, hopeful and trusting but knowing so much is out of her control. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to give him a chance, and this question is the true test.

Because, of course, she can’t keep me safe all on her own. She tried her best when I was a child, and now that I’m a grown woman, she has to do her best to trust other people, starting with my husband.

“Will you take my word for it?” Declan asks, his voice rough. I wonder if it bothers him to say this in front of Carter and Aria, but I don’t think so. He hardly looks at them. He’d say this no matter who was in the room. That makes my heart even warmer.

My mother nods, accepting as solemnly as if they’re making an eternal pact. I guess, in a way, they are.

“Then I give you my word,” Declan says. “I swear to you. I won’t let a damn thing happen to my wife. She’ll be safe with me.”

DECLAN

I don’t remember a time that I’ve been so damn nervous. I barely touched my plate and I don’t trust the whiskey. All I can think as I stare across the table all night at Mrs. Lennox is that she reminds me so much of my own mother. Memories of my childhood play back as I sit there, scraping the fork across my plate.

I knew I wasn’t good enough for Braelynn back then, and I’m sure as hell not good enough for her now.

Her mother knows that. It’s so fucking obvious that her mother knows that. We all do.

But I can’t let Braelynn go. I won’t do it. I love her and I don’t know how I could survive without her anymore.

With dinner and dessert done, her mother slips on her coat. Hugs were given to all, including me, more than likely reluctantly. Carter and Aria have gone and as Braelynn’s telling her to drive safe, Mrs. Lennox asks me for a private minute.

If I was nervous before, I have no fucking clue what this feeling is. The pit of my stomach twists and turns as I nod and Brae lets go of my hand to leave me alone in the foyer.

“Love you neña,” she murmurs to her daughter who looks skeptically back as she walks to the kitchen to give us a moment.

Brae’s footsteps can barely be heard when her mother tells me calmly, “I remember when you were a little boy, do you remember me?”

If only she knew.

I clear my throat, swallowing down the emotion, “I do.” I wonder what she sees when she looks at me. I wonder if I look like a cold-hearted monster to her, because right now I feel the same as I did back before I knew what this world was.

She glances past me, holding her purse against her chest. “You’re not so little anymore. Seems like a lot has changed.”

“A lot has changed but I—” I breathe out deeply before meeting her gaze, “I loved her then. I just didn’t know how much I needed her. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay away from her.” My voice cracks slightly, betraying me, and I hate it.

I clear my throat again as her mother eyes me. Perhaps thinking that I’m lying to her. And I suppose with all the lies I’ve told, I deserve that, but I can prove to her that I mean everything I say.

Her mother speaks just above her breath, “She deserves someone who loves her.”

I don’t hesitate to answer, “I do. I do love her. And I’ll take care of her.”

A moment passes and then she nods, as if accepting it, and for a moment, it feels like everything might be all right.

“I expect to have dinner every Sunday.” I nod in return and tell her we can do that.

“Good,” she says with finality and then looks behind her at the door. Before she leaves, she says, “Next week, dinner at my house.” Again I nod. I would do anything for her. She adds, “Just you two or your family can come.”

“They’ll be there,” I answer for my brothers, and then I think about all the kids and how I think her mother would love that.


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