Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
“Thanking me in the form of a cheaper bill?”
“In the form of better painkillers,” Hans answers on a good-natured laugh. “You know the price of my services will never decrease.”
“Much like I know you never sleep in the same bed as the woman you’ve been fucking.”
“I can never seem to get comfortable unless I’m alone.” The feeling of a cream being spread on my back is followed by him goading, “You should have no problems relating to that.”
His words have me closing my eyes in a different type of pain.
This one much deeper than the lacerations.
This one unable to be soothed by any amount of narcotic assistance.
She betrayed me.
But for what?
For a brother who craves destruction? For a father who only loves himself? For a family that’s proven to be poisonous to her happiness and future?
Hans completes the end of his procedure in silence. Once the bandages are in place, he gathers his tools together and neatly disposes of the discarded materials in a hazard bag for Dietrich to remove from the penthouse. His scrubs-covered frame stops in front of me and lifts a small bottle into my eyesight. “Only when the pain is past a seven. Am I making myself clear?”
I nod my comprehension.
“Good.” He places the bottle on the island top beside me. “I’m a doctor. Not a drug dealer. Please remain one of my clients that understands that.”
Another nod is all he’s given prior to his exit.
Dietrich and I wait in still silence until we’re certain he’s no longer a liability to what we have planned ahead.
He moves his mouth to speak first yet is stopped by me stating, “I want all of the footage wiped clean and all members of security to have their memories scrubbed without regards to cost.”
“Yes, Mr. Whittington.”
“Have her things packaged and delivered to her parents’ home.”
“Which things, Mr. Whittington?”
The question digs the pain deeper than any blade ever could. “All of it, Dietrich.” I stubbornly fight the heartache demanding I show weakness for the only woman capable of creating it in me. “All of the belongings in her room. Her bathroom. Her favorite morning mug. Her books, laptop, or any other items you find that should be in her hands.”
“Yes, Sir.”
It’s a struggle to keep my voice even as I add, “And please deliver a copy of the contract as well. I’ll have it amended to indicate the Piersons’ debt has been settled.”
Ironically enough, I was going to have that done this morning anyway.
I had planned to enjoy a long morning with Zel in my bed and then in my shower before admitting to her how she had managed to become so much more than just another doll to pass the time with. I was going to confess love, offer commitment, and announce the conclusion of our previously penned agreement for one much better.
Much riskier.
Highest risk for what I was envisioning to be the highest reward.
“Yes, Sir,” Dietrich repeats yet doesn’t dismiss himself to tend to his duties.
His lack of movement sends my eyebrows to the ceiling in a silent question.
There’s a short pause prior to him politely asking, “May I have a moment to speak freely, sir?”
The request has my brow remaining lifted as I motion a hand in his direction to continue.
“I do not believe for a moment, Miss Pierson, wanted this outcome.”
A twinge appears in my chest at the declaration.
“She was genuinely happy here, sir. She said it. She acted it.”
It’s impossible to stop the pain from spreading.
“Perhaps it is unwise to behave so hastily with removing her things.”
His challenge causes me to lift a hand to stop him from saying anything else. “Enough, Dietrich.” Rising to my feet, in a defeated nature, I simply sigh, “Those things may be true, but the fact of the matter is she wasn’t here because she wanted to be. She was here because she was obligated to be.” The veracity of the statement only increases the pain I fear may never subside. “Her obligation is over…,” I slowly start to stroll out of the room for my office to call one of my attorneys, “and so are we.”
Chapter Twelve
Zel
I’ve cried enough tears into my dark locks over the past week that I could wring a river from it. And, for some reason, every time I think about that, I only sob harder into those very same strands.
I’ve never been the kind of girl who felt like her world was over when a relationship ended. Maybe that’s because I’ve never really had one worth being that sad over. Or maybe because they’ve always been so few and far between due to me being too busy holding Mom’s hair back as she puked in the early stages of her sickness. The ones where we weren’t sure what was going on so, in theory, I could still have a life outside of caring for her – even though I didn’t.