Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“No, hey, you are her, you’re Cormac’s fucking sister. I can’t believe you’d show your face in here. You know what that asshole did, don’t you?” He reaches out to touch me and I manage to weave out of his grasp. “Listen when I fucking talk to you, traitor bitch.”
“I had nothing to do with my brother,” I say, getting to my feet. “And I was just leaving.”
“Listen to the traitor bitch act like I’m the problem.” He sneers at me and elbows his friend who’s laughing along with him. “I hear you’re gonna marry that French fuck, what’s his name? Jerry or whatever? If you think letting Ronan sell you off is gonna make people forget what Cormac did, you’re dead fucking wrong.”
Kim brushes past me and gets in Peachfuzz’s face. “Would you fuck off and leave her alone, you stupid dick-sucking loser? You realize she had nothing to do with what her brother did, right?”
“Damn, who the fuck are you?” he says, grinning huge. “You’re kind of hot.”
“Fuck off, you disgusting pig. I’d rather fuck a stop sign and get lockjaw than touch your pathetic shriveled little cock.”
“Holy shit,” Peachfuzz’s friend says. “Damn, dude, that was harsh.”
“Yeah, seriously.” Peachfuzz’s eyes narrow. “You’re being kind of rude.”
“I’m being rude? How about you turn around, shave that pedo-stache, and mind your own fucking business?”
Peachfuzz’s face screws up. “Now you’re just being a bitch.”
“Oh, real smart, calling me a bitch.” Kim shoves him and he nearly falls off his stool. “Fucking loser, what are you gonna do, hit a girl? Go ahead, show everyone how small your dick is.”
I grab Kim’s arm before she can get herself killed. Peachfuzz is looking like he’s about to take her up on her offer. I drag her back as she continues to shout insults at the guy while his friend cracks up, loving the show.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say to Kim as I drag her outside.
She straightens herself and brushes down her clothes like she’s trying to clean filth off herself. “Yeah, I did, because you weren’t gonna.” She glares at me. “Why do you take that crap, Bri?”
“Because he’s just some drunk asshole and it doesn’t matter what he thinks.”
“But you’re better than him.” Kim’s jaw tightens as she glares back at the door. “Fuck you, little dick!” she screams and grabs me by the turn. “Come on, yell it.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I laugh at the look on her face. It’s pure rage.
“Yell it, bitch.”
Nearby, a few cousins smoke cigarettes and stare with amusement.
To hell with it. I’m so tired of these arrogant assholes. They’re all the same: petty, small-minded, self-centered, pathetic. And just because they have dicks and are members of the Hayes Group, they all think they’re better than me. They think they can shit all over me.
“Fuck you, little dick,” I yell.
“Louder,” Kim says and screams it at the door.
“Fuck you, little dick!” I scream along with her.
Then the cousins smoking nearby start screaming it too, which makes us start laughing. I drag Kim away, cracking up so much there are tears in my eyes, and as we head down the sidewalk together, I feel myself starting to wonder how many more nights we’ll have like this, just the two of us against the whole damn world, or if everything’s going to change when I marry Julien.
I suddenly understand why she’s so against it. Kim has had boyfriends, but they’ve never really mattered before—we’ve been really close, and she never, ever let a guy get in the middle of our friendship.
But a boyfriend isn’t a husband, especially not a husband that runs a serious crime organization.
Life won’t be the same. It just won’t be. That’s why I’m going to marry him—and why I feel a stab of sudden sorrow run down my spine.
Already mourning all the nights I won’t get to have again.
Chapter 9
Julien
Iraise a cup of good espresso to my lips. “Coffee without a cigarette is like sex without an orgasm,” I grumble.
Ronan’s eyebrows raise. “I don’t really want to hear about your sexual habits.”
“I’m sorry, do you not come when you fuck? Don’t act like this is such a big surprise.”
He rolls his eyes and sips his own coffee. We’re at the back of a fancy cafe run by a friendly associate of mine, one who is good about keeping his mouth shut and doesn’t have any cameras inside of his shop. The smell of roasting beans and pastries fills the air, and the machines hiss and hum as the barista makes drinks. Pleasing jazz filters in from old speakers hidden in the ceiling.
Ronan’s a prick. That goes without saying. But in this case, it’s because he always wants to meet so fucking early in the morning, and I swear he does it just to piss me off.