Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
The sound of rushing water fills the room.
* * *
“Mum?” I call, following the sound of water. “Mum, where are you?” I creep down the landing, constantly checking behind me, making sure I’m not found out of bed at this hour. Is he even home? “Mum?” I call, nearing the far end of the house, the noise getting louder. “Mum?” I take the gold doorknob of the bathroom door. “Mum, are you in there?” I stand on the threshold, pushing the door. It creaks open.
* * *
“Pearl?”
I jolt, blinking, staring at the violent rush of water whooshing out.
“God damn it, this tap needs replacing,” Esther mutters, fiddling with the handle. “The pressure’s knackered.”
The water shuts off.
I try to control my shaking hands, try to breathe easy.
“Pearl?” Beau says, slipping off her stool.
“Just feeling a little hot.” I smile meekly. “Some fresh air will help.” I leave everyone in the kitchen and head out into the garden, replying to Mason’s text as I make my way past the pool, telling him I’m feeling much better and I’ll be at work later. Once I’ve shaken off this unease. I tuck my phone in my dress pocket and scoop up a half-chewed tennis ball, whistling. The ground shakes with the pounds of their chunky paws as they run from wherever they are to find me. I smile when they come flying around the corner, galloping like horses, their tongues hanging out and flapping up the sides of their faces. “Hey, girls,” I coo, tossing the ball in my hand as they leap up and down, excited. “Ready, ready, ready, ready, ready . . .” I launch the ball as far as I can, which is probably a pathetic effort by their standards, but they shoot off, barking, the competition fierce between them to get there first. Cindy wins. Always Cindy. Which means I’ll end up holding her collar to give Barbie a head start, just so she can win once or twice. They come bounding back. “Drop,” I order. Cindy obediently releases, and I scoop it up, walking on with them flanking me either side, looking up eagerly, begging me to chuck it again. I throw it toward the garden house and take a seat on the bench under a willow tree. Hidden. But the dogs still sniff me out. Always do.
Cindy drops the ball in my lap, and I grimace, wiping the drool off my dress. “Yum.” I take her collar and throw the ball again, giving Barbie a few yards advantage before releasing Cindy. She pelts off, kicking up some tufts of grass.
A rustle behind me pulls my eyes back. And my heart stops in my chest and starts again, pumping faster. Brad dips through a few branches, and everything inside that was beginning to relax becomes tense again. My eyes fall to his navy suit, his open-collared shirt. His hands are in his pockets, relaxed. Good for him. I return forward when I feel something land in my lap. Barbie pants up at me, looking extremely pleased with herself, oblivious to the sudden pivot of my disposition.
I thought he’d left.
“Morning,” he says, his voice getting closer.
“Hi,” I reply, frowning down at the soggy ball in my lap. He appears in my peripheral vision, lowering to the bench, his hands still in his pockets. I look at him. He looks at me. And I quickly turn away before I can fall victim to his lazy gaze again.
“Do you feel better?” he asks.
I pick up the ball and throw it, sending the dogs off. Brad must have wondered what was bad enough to send me home early from work that wasn’t bad enough to stop me taking my clothes off for him. Or letting him take them off. “I do, thanks.”
“So you’ll be at work?”
“At six. In case you needed to avoid me.” I turn a small smile his way, desperately not wanting things to be awkward. Desperately not wanting him to make it impossible for me to stay. I can’t lie to myself—last night was the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced. It truly sucks that I’ll never have that again, but I can accept that so long as I can stay. It’ll be hell, seeing him every day, knowing he’ll never see me as anything other than a fuck but, again, I’ll endure it so I can stay.
He huffs a little bit of laughter. “Pearl, listen, last night—”
“Shouldn’t have happened, I know.”
He recoils, surprised, gazing at me with those fucking take-me-to-bed eyes. “Right,” he breathes, and I turn away, clenching my eyes closed, mortified.
My God, he’s told himself he needs to pacify the child. Make sure I understand that he’s a man, a real man, and one who is good at only one thing. Fucking. Did he think I’d built a fairy tale around him? Mentally married him, had his babies, lived happily ever after in his mafia world? God, he’s going to be disappointed. I learned long ago not to dream of fairy tales. And last night? It needed to happen. For Brad and for me.