Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“You ca—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll wait until she’s of age. And when I do, there won’t be a damn thing you can do about it. So, go visit Dad. Hurry. Maybe your words will bring him back.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Only if your husband doesn’t kill you first.”
His words take me by surprise, and I waver.
Someone knocks on the window, startling me. I turn to look and find a tall man in a dark long coat and blond hair standing outside. He nods to Abel.
“That’s James. He’ll take you home when you’re finished. You have one hour.”’
“One hour?”
“I would have given you all day, but you’re not being very nice, are you?”
I open my mouth, but he puts up a hand.
“Don’t, Ivy. Just don’t. Go before I change my mind altogether.”
Is he going to steal this from me too? “Please, Abel.” I feel my eyes fill up again.
“Please, Abel,” he mimics, making his voice higher than it is.
I give him the finger and push my door open. I have one foot out the door when he calls my name.
“Ivy.”
I turn.
“It’s tomorrow tonight.”
“What’s tomorrow tonight?”
“The big day.”
“What?”
“At midnight.”
“Tomorrow?” Cold washes over me.
He checks his watch. “Fifty-seven minutes.”
“I hate you,” I tell him and step out of the car, then pass James, who follows me through the sliding glass doors into the hospital.
8
Santiago
“Dominus et Deuce.” Abel utters the forced show of respect for my rank as he bows before me in greeting.
My study at De La Rosa Manor is dark, all the monitors on the wall turned off for the day. But even so, I can tell as I glance down at Abel Moreno, he is not a man who likes to bow to anyone. He feels he deserves better, and I’m certain his ego insists on it. I’ve always detected a hint of his resentment, even as he offers his respect.
For all intents and purposes, Abel may as well be a bastard. His connection to IVI is weak at best. He was Eli’s first and only son, but he was not born to the woman The Society chose for him. Therefore, he will never truly be of importance in our world. It’s a simple concept to grasp, even for someone like him, but accepting it is another matter.
He has always been too smug for my liking. Too eager for approval. I don’t like the way he carries himself, and I am even less pleased with how readily he agreed to offer his sister to me. He might not have a choice in the matter, but his lack of regard for his own blood does nothing to win my approval.
I expected a fight, and admittedly, I am disappointed that I did not get one. I’ve been watching his family for four years now, and I have found a weakness for all but him. Eli and his wife crave the power that comes with The Society. Ivy craves to escape through naïve dreams of school and a life she’ll never have. Much like her older sister, who did escape, I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried. The youngest Moreno, Evangeline, isn’t old enough to have an opinion either way. But Abel does not seem to be cursed with affection for any of his family members, and if he loves anything other than himself, I have not yet discovered it.
Marrying Ivy off to me should have been torturous to all of them. But not once since I declared my intentions has anyone come to beg me to spare her. Not even her own mother. I’m beginning to think the only Moreno who might care is the one who’s lying helpless in a coma, too cowardly to face the injustices he deserves himself.
“I wanted to offer you an assurance.” Abel’s eyes flick to the empty chair opposite my desk. He’s waiting for me to tell him to sit down and make himself comfortable. I don’t.
“What assurance?” My eyes narrow in on the folded paper in his hands.
“That your bride is pure. There can be no doubt now.”
I consider his words carefully. Surely, he cannot mean what I think he does. But as I examine the tilt of his lips and an expression that can only indicate he is rather pleased with himself, my temples begin to throb violently.
I reach out and snatch the paper from his hands, unfolding it near the soft glow of the flickering candle on my desk. My eyes move rapidly over the report, collecting the details as my knuckles grow rigid at the confirmation of his statement. An image of Ivy comes to mind, filling in the gaps between my imagination and Abel’s stupidity. It isn’t difficult to envision her lying there on her back, legs spread as a stranger dares to touch what should only ever belong to me. How could Abel ever believe this would be a smart move?