Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
She eyes the forkful of pomegranate dessert like it’s poison. “Something to pass the time? You’re being a dick, Kostas.”
I grit my teeth, darting my gaze around to see if anyone heard her. Luckily, everyone is focused on chatting and eating dessert.
“Eat the fucking food,” I grit out.
Her cheeks bloom red with the first flush of color all night. “No,” she says stubbornly.
“You’re hungry. Eat.”
“I loved doing this restaurant, but I want to finish school. Something you said I could do,” she bites out. “I’ll figure out a way to manage both.” She swats away the fork and it’s really starting to piss me off.
I pin her with a hard glare. “Eat the pomegranate, Persephone.”
“I said I don’t want any, Hades.” Her nostrils flare and she swallows hard.
Fury rises up inside of me like fire from the depths of Hell. Is this how the fabled god felt when the one he loved refused to eat the pomegranate that would keep her bound to him for eternity?
Obstinate women.
“Fine,” I snap, setting the fork down with a hard clank. “Be that way.”
She flinches at my tone. “I’m not being any way, Kostas.” She rises quickly from her chair, swaying slightly. “I need fresh air.”
“You’re not going,” I lash out.
“Outside or to school?” she challenges, tears welling in her pretty eyes.
I’m an asshole.
“School,” I growl. “You have the restaurants, and you have me.”
A tear races down her cheek as her blue eyes flash with betrayal at my words. I never said I wasn’t a liar. School is a waste of fucking time and energy. She’s a Demetriou now and doesn’t need it.
“Then I’m going outside, boss,” she sneers, her red bottom lip wobbling.
“Get your air and dry your tears.” I clench my teeth before pinning her with a hard glare. “And then come back to eat your fucking pomegranate dessert.”
We both know the meaning behind my words.
You eat it. You stay.
That’s the end of our motherfucking story.
Five long minutes pass before my blood runs icy cold.
Fuck this.
Fuck her attitude, too.
I stalk out of the restaurant and into the pouring rain. It’s cold and immediately saturates through my tux. In the dark, I scan the buildings and trees, searching for her.
Nowhere.
“Looking for your wife?” Aris asks, pressed against the wall, just under the awning of the building. “She went that way. Said she was running away from the monsters.” He snorts at his joke. “Something could happen to a woman all alone…”
I’d love nothing more than to punch his fucking face in, but his words cause my anxiety to spike. I rush out into the direction he pointed along a path that leads between some villas. My dress shoes splatter in puddles on the stone in my quest to find her. As minutes pass without finding her, I’m getting more and more pissed.
It’s like she forgets who she married sometimes.
I’m a monster.
She’s called me this many times. It’s not my fucking fault she has a hard time remembering it. I hear sobbing nearby, ratcheting up my nerves.
“Talia,” I call out. “Come here.”
“No,” she barks out.
I see a flash of white in the darkness and chase after it. A squeal erupts from her as she tries to outrun me, which is futile. I’ll always catch her. I’ll always find her.
She darts through some bushes into the backyard of someone’s villa. I push through the shrubs and catch her running around their small pool. I charge after her, nearly making it to her, when she slides out of the yard on the other side. Once outside of the yard, she runs up some stone steps, but she’s losing steam. I’m nearly to her when she slips and lands hard on her knee. A choked sob rattles from her, cutting me to the bone. Without a word, I scoop her soaked and trembling body into my arms. She’s lost the fight.
My fight still burns inside me.
I storm back to our villa. She whimpers when I push inside and then slam the door shut with my foot. My chest heaves with fury. I just want to strip her down, fuck her senseless, and remind her who she belongs to. I’ve barely set her on her feet when she takes off running again. This time, she makes it into the closet where she starts angrily ripping off her jewelry.
“Calm the fuck down,” I roar, stomping in after her.
Her blond hair is darker now that it’s wet and plastered to her head. Black makeup runs down her cheeks and she’s red-faced from crying. Lips that were once red are now looking kind of blue from the cold rain.
“Take that dress off,” I command.
She needs a hot shower and a good dicking to calm her down.
“F-Fuck you,” she chatters out.
I pounce on her and twist her around, bending her over the island in the closet. She screams when I unzip her dress. Forcefully, I rip the offending material off her body and it falls heavily to her feet. Her body trembles from the cold and adrenaline. I rip off her panties next and then her shoes, the entire time with her fighting me. When I’ve had enough, I yank her wrists back and gather them with one hand.