Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“You don’t know what I found out,” she said quietly.
“I don’t fucking care!”
In my periphery, I could see Hunter marching from his office to mine. He waved away the curious audience forming outside my door, shooting me a pull it together look.
I’d officially hit rock bottom. Nothing said you were a world-class loser more than Hunter goddamn Fitzpatrick telling you to chill.
I turned my attention back to Persephone, lowering my voice but still feeling that undeniable shake. “Nothing you found on Andrew’s laptop can help me win this case. The only thing you did was give him more ammo on me. Now he is probably telling people I sent my wife to sniff around his work and made her perform two jobs to try to dig up some dirt about him. Not only did you not help me, but you also put yourself at risk, and I…”
That’s where I stopped. And what?
Persephone slanted one eyebrow up, studying me with eyes so hungry, if I had a heart, it would break for her. She clearly wanted me to care.
“And you what, hubs?” she asked softly. “What would have happened had Andrew done something to me?”
A violent shudder ran through me.
The waterboarding.
The burns.
The beatings.
Getting locked in the confession booth for hours at a time in a dark church with only my demons to keep me company.
Coming back to him, asking him for more. To atone for my father’s sins. To grieve our friendship. To numb my feelings.
And just like that, I remembered who I was.
Who Andrew Arrowsmith had made me.
Who my father—my whole family—expected me to be.
A grim smirk slashed my face like a wound. I leaned down, my lips brushing my wife’s ear, my hot breath fanning her pale hair.
“And I wish he’d finished the job, Flower Girl, so I could finally go ahead and marry someone in my own league. You were a mistake. A foolish, horny mistake. Divorce couldn’t come fast enough.”
I felt, rather than saw her take a step back. That was when I realized I’d closed my eyes like a pathetic moron, inhaling her.
With her head tilted up and her spine stiff, she pulled a stack of papers from her bag and slammed it against my chest.
“In that case, congratulations. You’ve worked really hard to show me Andrew turned you into a heartless monster. Consider yourself free from this marriage. Here’s your parting gift from me. A Child Protective Service report deeming Andrew a dangerous, unfit father. Thought it might be of interest to you, since he’s lost custody of his children, and will be losing his job next.”
She took a ragged breath that shook her entire tiny body.
“I love you, Cillian Fitzpatrick. I’ve always loved you. From the moment we first met at the charity ball when I spotted you across the room. You were a god among mortals. Vital yet dead. And when you looked at me—when you looked past me—I saw my whole future in your eyes. I knew you were rich, and handsome, and powerful. Yet the only thing I truly ever wanted from you, Kill, was you. To peel off the layers, shed them with my fingernails, and have you, and love you, and save you. I thought I could change you. And I tried. I really did. But I cannot change someone who doesn’t want to change. I love you, but I love me, too. And I deserve more than you’ve given me. More than you are willing to part ways with. So I’m saving you this one time, for all the times you saved me, and saying goodbye.”
She rose to her tiptoes and pressed a cold, impersonal kiss on my lips, her eyelashes brushing against my nose.
“We’ve always been so bad at respecting each other’s boundaries. We broke our contract again and again and again. If you have a shred of sympathy for me in that cold heart of yours, don’t contact me anymore. No matter what happens, no matter how much you want to tell me something, leave me alone. I need time to digest, to lick my wounds, to move on. Don’t show up at my sister’s house, or at my workplace, or anywhere I might be. Let me get over you. My heart can’t take another blow.”
She turned around and walked away.
Leaving me to stand with my get-out-of-jail monopoly card, the perfect evidence against Andrew Arrowsmith, and my heart in my throat.
It beat, loud and fast.
Alive.
Angry.
And full of emotions.
Rather than extinguishing the five hundred fires wreaking havoc in my life, I opted to take the car, drive to the closest liquor store, stock up on the cheapest, most punishing brand of vodka—the type certain to give me a hangover from hell—and drive to the ranch.
I got drunk with my horses (I did all the drinking; they were there to watch me through the half doors of their stalls), with my phone turned off. Flower Girl was finally done with me. Mission accomplished. Now when I had Andrew’s downfall in my back pocket, when I knew he’d drop the lawsuit thanks to her, all I wanted to do was go down in flames right along with him.