Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
“Kane Santino wouldn’t marry that girl. She’s sleeping with a member of his team.” And why Santino hasn’t gotten rid of that team member, I don’t know. Seems like a dumb move, but I’m not about to interfere. If Santino has problems within his ranks, then he’ll have to mete out the discipline. “As for the girl, I don’t think the Church should be facilitating sending young women to a man named Butcher Marks who thinks Hannibal is an inspiration and once stated that true enlightenment is only seen through a dying person’s eyes.”
“He paid quite a bit of money for her.”
Of which the Bishop got a good cut, and if the goods aren’t delivered, he will have to return the money.
“I’ll talk with Santino. He still has the girl. I’ll see what can be done. It’s not like Marks bought the father.”
“Marks believes the girl has been sullied. He wanted a pure one. He said he paid for two girls, and one of them is missing.”
I grow still. Two girls?
“You’re to find the other girl, retrieve the one from Santino, punish him, and deliver both girls to Marks. After you’ve finished your duty, you can come and give me your confession.” He waves a hand at my bare neck. “You are obviously engaged in sinful behavior that will need to be sanctified.”
Silently, I get to my feet and show Bishop the door. Lars makes eye contact with me over the old man’s head. He’s heard everything and is wondering if we’re going to war. I signal back that we are but not the one that the Bishop thinks is going to take place.
CHAPTER 14
ANGEL
I think I’m losing my mind. Because I swear the other side of my bed looks like someone had been sleeping there. I grab the pillow and smell it. I’m not crazy. It’s Bjornsson. Then again, I might be telling myself that so I feel better.
I haven’t seen the man in days. Why would he sneak into my bed? When he up and disappeared after what happened in the garden? Before that, I couldn't get the man to leave me alone, and now I can’t find him anywhere. And believe me, I’ve looked.
I go in search of him every day, pretending to explore the massive church or whatever you want to call this place, trying to find him without asking. No one stops me, but some doors are locked. A few don’t have handles at all to open them.
Annoyed by the pillow, I throw it across the room before I crawl out of bed. I use the bathroom to make myself halfway presentable. I’m not bothering to change out of my pajamas. The first few days, I changed my clothes a few times.
Boxes of clothes from my favorite store and others arrived. He’d remembered what I said. It warmed me at first. I’d found them after I came back from lunch to my room. The closet was filled to the brim. But after a few days, I figured there was no point.
People move around this place like ghosts. The clothes quickly became nothing more than that. Clothes. Not sure why I need them. I don’t go anywhere. Bjornsson isn’t even around for me to show them off to or tease.
It hurts that he hasn’t come around. Which is ridiculous on my part because I’d been the one to run from him. Now I’m pissed he’s not bothering me. I want to leave, but maybe that’s the plan. To slowly drive me insane so I’ll tell them everything I know about Laurel. I hope they have a Plan B because there’s no way in hell that’s happening. I need to find a way to escape, but I’m not sure that’s possible.
Now that I think about it, it might be time I start driving everyone around here insane. I ponder what I can do as I make my way toward the kitchen. I don’t want to annoy other people. I want to annoy Bjornsson.
I’ll feel bad if I start causing mayhem and destroying anything I can get my hands on. Someone else would have to clean that up, but they do work for him. I’m sure everyone knows that I’m not allowed to leave. I’ve been kidnapped. They allow it, so maybe I shouldn’t care who has to fix any destruction I cause.
When I walk past a pretty statue sitting on a table, my fingers itch to pick it up and toss it. I can’t do it. It’s a mom holding her child close to her. I need a male statue or something. I’ll explore after I’ve had my breakfast. I might not be so grumpy then and more rational.
“Morning,” I chirp when I pass a man I’ve seen many times. Normally he gives me a nod, but today, he quickly turns his eyes away from me. The hell.