Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“What do you mean?” I ask her, even though I know what she’s trying to do.
She’s been spoiling for a fight ever since she got here. Because fighting makes it easier to leave. Easier to lash out at someone when you’re hurting. She’s been lashing out at me ever since Blaine came into my life. And every bruise, every stilted conversation has driven us further and further apart.
She talked to me like I was so stupid. Like I was just one of those women who didn’t know any better. The truth is, she’s the one who doesn’t know any better. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have to choose. Sometimes I resent her for that. Like right now when she’s acting like she’s too good to be here anymore. In this apartment and in my presence.
“What are you going to do now, Sash?” she asks. “Keep working at the strip club until you’re old and gray? I thought you said you had a plan.”
“I do have a plan,” I tell her.
“Really?” she mocks me with accusing eyes. “Because I saw that guy sneaking out the other morning. That mafia guy.”
I blink at her and she laughs. “You just can’t fucking help yourself, can you?” she says. “You just won’t stop until you self-destruct.”
“Now you listen to me, kid,” I yell at her as I jump off the sofa and stare at her in disbelief. “You don’t know anything about the way the real world works. And for good reason. Ma and I always protected you. Sheltered you. So that you never had to deal with these kind of realities. You have no idea the sacrifices I’ve made to keep you safe. So that you could go to college and have a shot at a normal life.”
“Oh I know,” she says condescendingly. “I know all about your sacrifices, Sash. Spreading your legs and taking your clothes off up on stage. Is that how you sheltered me?”
There have been moments in my life when I felt like nothing. Thought I was nothing. But to have my own sister say it, my own flesh and blood… it feels like I’ve just been knifed in the stomach.
I know she regrets the words the moment they are out of her mouth. She’s grieving, and she’s angry and she needs someone to take it out on. But I’m so fucking sick of being everyone’s punching bag.
“Get out,” I tell her as I walk towards the kitchen to grab my keys. “Get your shit and fly back to California tonight. I want you gone.”
“Sasha…” Her voice breaks, but I can’t look at her. Because there are tears running down my face and I’m embarrassed.
“Go back to your life, Em,” I tell her. “Just go back and be… happy.”
***
Slainte isn’t as busy tonight as it has been, but it’s probably the late hour.
It’s almost one am by the time I arrive. And I don’t know what I’m doing, only that it’s familiar to me. These faces. This environment. But I’m really only searching for one face.
I find him in the back of the VIP lounge sitting next to Conor and Rory. And I don’t know why, but it pisses me the fuck off. Kaya passes me and I grab two of the drinks off her tray.
“Hey, watch it,” she snarls. “Those are for the guys.”
I shove a hundred-dollar bill at her and she shuts up. “Keep them coming.”
And she does. Over the next twenty minutes, I sit in the back and watch him. He hasn’t looked at the stage once. He’s locked inside his head again. I want to know what he thinks about. I want to make sense of this man that infuriates me.
And right now, in my inebriated state, I want to feel him.
I move towards him, and I can barely walk straight. Turns out, a lot of alcohol and no food isn’t a great combination. All three of the guys look up at me in surprise when I stumble into their line of sight, but I only have eyes for Ronan.
Those sad brown eyes land on me, and my entire world comes into focus. It has a way of doing that when I’m in his sights.
I move closer and sit right down in his lap. His entire body goes stiff, and he’s got that wild look in his eyes again. Like I’m a potential threat. It only serves to provoke me. I smile and catch his face in my hands and then lean in to whisper in his ear.
“Do you like watching the other girls dance?” I ask him.
“I’m not,” he answers.
I kiss the shell of his ear and then drag my lips down his neck, tasting him. “I know.”
His breathing grows harsh and his hands move to my thighs. He holds them there as if he isn’t sure whether he wants to push me away or pull me closer. I make the decision for him by grabbing the back of his head and crushing my lips against his.