Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
“He’s currently under investigation for his involvement in his father’s business. No need to worry, darling. I’m sure he’s found a good lawyer by now. Maybe Kristen hired the same one. I just got her fired from her job for crossing approximately five-hundred red lines and losing all her credibility.”
“You snitched on a family from The Outfit?” I balled my fists, barely containing my rage. He blinked at me as though he had no idea who I was or why I was talking to him.
“I gave them what they deserved to make sure they never get near what’s mine again.”
Me. I was his.
“What will happen to him?” I sucked in a breath.
He shrugged. “They’ll probably scare him to death and let him go. As for Kristen, her career is officially over. Not that you should care.”
“You are despicable.”
“You are delicious,” he whispered under his breath, dismissing my rage, if not enjoying it a little. Ms. Sterling was somewhere in the crowd, probably taking pictures, and I wished she was here to referee the situation and explain his behavior now. “And officially now my wife. You do know we need to soil our sheets with blood, right?”
I shuddered at his words. I was counting on Wolfe to never agree to participate in this tradition, being a senator and all. But I forgot how much joy he’d had torturing my father—and what was more awful than proof he’d slept with his daughter?
“I think I’m all out of blood after the last time.” I smiled against the rim of my wine glass in which I drank orange juice. He didn’t have to know that it was spiked with enough vodka to drown a poodle. Thank you, Clara.
“It’s not in your nature to pledge defeat, my darling wife. I assure you, we can produce blood if we try hard.”
“I want a divorce,” I groaned, not really taking him seriously, but not completely joking, either.
He chuckled. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me till my last breath.”
Or until you replace me with a newer model.
“Then let’s both hope it will occur soon.”
Two hours into the celebration, Wolfe and I finally parted ways. I went to the bathroom, taking my time with the voluminous tulle as I attempted to pee. I managed it, though it took me a good fifteen minutes to complete the task unscathed. I washed my hands, opened the door and padded outside, back toward the party, when I heard something crashing in the room next door. I stopped in my tracks, turning my head toward one of the guest rooms on the ground floor. Scowling, I made my way to the source of the noise. If someone was drunk and vandalizing my parents’ house, I sure was going to give them a piece of my mind. I stopped in front of the open door of the room, my eyes widening in disbelief as the scene in front of me trickled into my conscience.
My mother was lying on the bed, my father standing above her, roaring at her, flecks of his saliva raining down on her face. Underneath them was a shattered glass of brandy. He stomped on it, thick glass flying under his Oxfords across the carpet.
“What kind of example are you setting for her? Getting her ready for her big day when she neglected her father and talked back to me yesterday? In front of that devil! She made me look like a fool, and you? You make me look like an idiot for marrying you.”
She spat on his face. “Cheater.”
He raised his arm, the back of his hand ready to smack her across the face. I didn’t think. I jumped to Mama’s defense, yelling “No!” as I came between them. I had intended to push my father away, but I wasn’t quick or strong enough. He ended up slapping me across the face, hard. I staggered down, falling next to my mother, elbowing her rib in the process. My cheek burned, and my eyes stung. The pain spread from my neck to my eye, and I felt like my entire face was in flames. I blinked and swayed, righting myself and leaning against the mattress, shaking my head. God, it hurt. How many times had he hit her? Before and after he handed me to Wolfe? Before or after she found out that he was cheating and confronted him?
“Great timing, Francesca.” He chuckled bitterly, kicking a shard of glass my way. “Just in time to see all the mess you’ve created.”
My mother burst into tears on the bed, covering her face in her hands with shame.
She didn’t want to deal with the messy situation, so she disappeared inside herself, tucked under the layers of her sorrow and her grief. After years of playing the dutiful, perfect wife, she finally crumpled. I had to face Arthur myself. Brave whatever he became as a result of Wolfe’s blackmail.