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)
Now I’m finished taking it.
“Listen to me, you washed-up piece of shit. Julien is my husband, and I’m his wife. I make my own decisions and my own mistakes, and nobody, especially not a worthless piece of trash like you, gets to make me question that. I do what I want, when I want, and you can go fuck yourself if you think I’m going to listen to you for a single second. You’re the one tied up on the bed, you old, pathetic man, not me.”
“Fuck you, little bitch,” he snaps, but I walk out of the room and slam the door. I push the bolt closed and stay in the hall for a second, breathing hard, annoyed that I responded to him like that. I let him drag me down to his level, and I’m kicking myself mentally for it.
Then I look up and spot Julien staring at me.
He’s leaning against the wall with a smile on his face.
“What’s that look for?” I ask and some of my anxiety begins to ease.
That’s what he does for me now. Just seeing him makes me feel better.
“You stood up to Pascal.”
“It’s not exactly hard right now. The guy’s half dead.”
He grins and shakes his head. “Bullshit. Pascal’s personality is ten times bigger and more dominant than normal men and you just told him off.”
“I guess you’re rubbing off on me then.”
“No, baby, I don’t think so.” He walks toward me. “You’ve been like this the whole time. You’ve just been too afraid to show it.”
“What the hell do you know?”
He grabs me by the waist and pulls me into him. “I know you’re strong. I know you’re beautiful. I know there’s a reason I fell in love with you.”
My eyebrows raise. “You fell in love with me, huh?”
“I fell in love with you, mon minou. And the way you make me a better man.”
I kiss him. Something in my chest, a knot that’s been curled around my heart for a long time, finally unfurls. I feel my shoulders relax for the first time in a decade. I kiss him and linger before pulling back to look him in the eye.
We fix each other’s flaws.
“Yeah, well, I love you too,” I say.
He laughs as we kiss in the hallway, and he’s right, I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I’m a survivor, and I’ll get through this mess too.
I have to believe we’ll come out the other side together.
But first, we stagger into the bedroom, and I let myself forget all my worries for a while.
Chapter 45
Julien
My plan comes together over a couple of days.
Which means two days where I’m forced to keep Pascal fed, watered, and alive.
That’s extremely not easy. The old bastard complains all the damn time, but I’m afraid to shove a gag in his mouth. If he choked, that would ruin everything. I need him alive, unfortunately, even though his corpse would be much more satisfying and a lot easier to deal with.
I try to keep Brianne away from him, but she refuses to listen to me. “You need my help,” she says, gently pushing me aside as she goes in to give Pascal his breakfast. “Besides, you’re busy with other work.”
She’s right about that. When I’m not home with her, I’m out with Jean regrouping the remnants of our crime organization and starting the arduous process of reconstructing what we lost.
The one good piece of news: there are more of my men alive and well than I thought. They scattered to the wind and were keeping their heads down now that the heat is very much on, but Jean’s been doing a good job of rustling them up and getting them in touch with each other again. There’s still product to sell and territory to defend, which isn’t easy now that we’re hamstrung.
But we manage. Even though a dozen little groups start nibbling at our edges, Jean and I run a couple raids on some smaller, local gangs that think it’s a good time to fuck with me. That means more blood in the streets, but it can’t be helped.
They have to know we aren’t weak, or else they’ll get too aggressive.
On the night of the second day, I run my hands down Brianne’s body. She shivers at my touch. I love the way she reacts to me. Every one of her moans, the way she moves her hips, her soft little tongue, her pink stiff nipples, all of her. I’m endlessly fascinated by her movements and by what turns her on, and it’s like a treasure hunt when I try to push her buttons. Her orgasms are better than gold though, better than money, than food, than fucking breathing.
“Sometimes I worry about you,” she says, stretching out her arms as I lick one of her nipples. “Seriously, you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”