Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“No,” he said simply, then moved to the armchair across the room and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Come here, little angel.”
Father Manwarring had already proven time and time again that he was not the kind of man who would hear no, and I did not have the energy or the will to fight him. So I stood, brushing my hands down my chiffon dress and kicking myself for not at least changing into something black and more appropriate.
I stood in front of Father Manwarring, my hands folded in front of me and my head down to prevent the tears streaming down my face from being so unbelievably obvious.
He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor by his feet, and I obeyed. Knelt down at his feet, let him place his hand on the back of my head and guide it until it was resting on his lap.
I had thought for sure he was going to do something else inappropriate, and strictly speaking, I didn’t think my kneeling on the floor resting my head on his lap was appropriate, but… it wasn’t sexual at least.
He propped his phone up in front of my face, making sure I could see the screen, and pressed Play.
Raul was on the screen, his eyes bloodshot as he looked around. He didn’t seem right. His movements were sluggish, and his hair was spiky instead of in the soft waves he usually kept it in.
“What is this?”
“Shh, angel,” he said, running his hand over my hair as if I were a kitten. It was soothing, and I let myself find comfort in it. “Just watch.”
Off camera, there was another voice, one I would recognize anywhere. Father Manwarring was asking him questions that made little sense. Then Raul, my sweet Raul, broke my heart.
Of course, I knew there was always a possibility that our relationship had started with a lie because Raul wanted access to my family’s money. Everyone in my social circle knew well that our wealth made us targets for con men and grifters.
When we first met, I thought maybe that was the case with Raul and he was humoring my crush because of my family’s money, but then I thought we had more. I thought he loved me, not because of my money, but despite it.
Even the way he spoke on the video was so different from the man I knew.
When he admitted his plans, about leaving me if my mother paid him, or worse if she didn’t and forcing me to pay him alimony after he knocked me up then stole my child, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe any of it.
Then he admitted to having sex with my mother. My stomach lurched, and I was grateful I skipped most of breakfast. Not only had he lied to me, used me, never loved me and actually plotted against me, but he had been with my mother.
Raul had listened to me whine and complain so many times about her control and the way she treated me and all the while he was getting paid to sleep with her.
“Turn it off,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Okay, you’ve seen enough.” Father Manwarring tapped the phone with his thumb and then put it away.
“When was this taken?”
Something wasn’t quite making sense in the back of my head. There was a connection my brain wanted to make but just couldn’t accept.
“Last night, before the poor man died.”
“Did you—” I couldn’t finish the words.
“No, angel,” he said, still petting my hair. “I may not act as all priests do, but I did not take that man’s life.”
I nodded, not sure I believed him.
“Do you understand now?” he asked, pulling me to my feet.
“Understand?”
“Do you understand that little asshole was not worthy of your time when he was alive? He was not worthy of your affection then, and he is not worthy of your grief now.” He wiped away the tears streaming down my face with his thumb in a surprisingly sweet gesture.
For just a second, barely enough time to blink, I forgot what this man really was. I took comfort in his touch, solace in his kindness.
“Do you understand?” He leaned close to me, his voice barely above a whisper. “That I own your body. Your pleasure belongs to me, and I am the only man who will ever get to touch you.”
Just like that, he broke the spell I was falling under. He reminded me of exactly whose arms I was in.
“I understand, Father,” I said obediently, casting my eyes to the floor.
“Prove it,” he growled, his kindness shifting into anger so quickly I could barely keep up. “Go lock the door and take off that dress.”
“But—”
“Do as I say. You know what will happen if you don’t,” he warned.