Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77516 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77516 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I inhaled a deep breath, pissed off. Not at her—but myself.
This was entirely my fucking fault.
If I had just pulled my head out of my ass, I would have known the events of her life, and I could have stopped this from happening. I could have talked to Boris right after she was fired. I could have paid her bills until her next paycheck came in.
But no, I was a selfish asshole who still didn’t understand how other people’s feelings, points of view, and validations worked. I pulled away from her when she needed me, when she loved me and I loved her.
I had a few regrets in life—and now I’d just added another to list.
She cleared her throat then opened the door, not making eye contact with me.
Now I knew why she was so combative. She didn’t want me to see where she lived. She said she liked her apartment, but that was bullshit. It got dark much earlier now, so she walked down this street by herself after work? A beautiful woman with a rocking ass and no one to protect her? She didn’t want me to know about this because she knew it would hurt me.
She was right.
I got out of the car and walked her to her door.
She didn’t argue because they would be wasted words.
We entered a run-down building with loud music coming from one apartment, like a rave was happening on a Tuesday night, and then moved past another apartment where a domestic fight was occurring, dishes breaking, a woman screaming.
Cleo reached her apartment and unlocked the door. “Thank you for dinner—”
I entered her apartment and shut the door behind me. I wasn’t having any conversation with her in that hallway. When I was inside, I realized it was just a room. Her bedroom was a bed against the wall with the TV at the other end. Her clothes hung in the open closet, and the kitchen was just a corner with a single-burner stove and a microwave. A closed door led to a bathroom, I assumed.
There were cracks in the wall, it smelled musty, the carpet was stained like it hadn’t been changed in twenty years. I never judged people for living a different life from my own. I never thought I was better than anyone else, even if I was a self-made billionaire.
But this shithole was unacceptable.
I wanted to cringe at the sight, knowing she’d been here for at least a month, while I slept in a fucking luxury condo like a goddamn king. She was used to the finer things too. Her apartment had been luxurious and in a great neighborhood. This was a major step down for her, and she must have been sick to her stomach when she had to leave Tribeca to come here. When she told me she lived in Brooklyn, I assumed it was still a decent neighborhood.
Fuck, was I wrong.
I circled and came back to her, nauseated by her living conditions. She was like a pig in a sty, all her shit stuffed into a single room. She didn’t have a couch or a coffee table, not even a dining table. There was barely enough room for the bed. I wanted to walk away to have some space, but there was literally nowhere to go.
Her features were tight, like she dreaded whatever I would say. “It’s not that bad—”
“Pack your things.” Her apartment wasn’t the worst part. It was the shady characters around it, the ones knew she lived there alone, that she came home every night by herself and never had company. She was an easy target for robbery…or worse.
“Deacon—”
“Fuck, I am not in the mood.” I spoke through a clenched jaw, my fists tight. “Just do as I say.” I would never sleep again if I knew she was here. If she refused to come with me, then I would have to sleep here too, because I wasn’t leaving my girl alone in this place.
She didn’t make a move for her bag. “It’s not forever. I’m waiting for an apartment to open up. Something will pop up.”
“What about your old place?”
“It’s already taken.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve been searching the area, but nothing is available. I could find a place farther outside the area, but I need something closer, and I don’t want to move twice.”
Staying here was not a solution.
“Deacon, I’m fine. Really. I’m a big girl—”
“You could be the strongest woman in the world, and it wouldn’t make a difference. You could have a gun, and it wouldn’t make a difference. You could have an alarm, and it wouldn’t make a difference. You’re packing a bag, and you’re coming with me. Now.”
She smiled ruefully. “I appreciate it, but I don’t need you to take care of me. This is not your fault, and don’t feel guilty—”