Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 151304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
She stepped into my arms, and I hugged her like never before, my eyes never leaving the smirking sociopath. Having spent a great portion of my life protecting my sister, this was perhaps the first time in my life that I was actually frightened for her. She was going to be alone with this animal with no guard, no shield, no sword. Just her pretty self and this beast. And it fucked with my head.
“Call me. I don’t care if all he does is look at you wrong; you call me,” I whispered into her ear, and she squeezed me.
“Promise me you won’t call him” was all she returned, and I didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. I sensed something bigger happening there, but now was not the time.
“I can’t do that.”
“Let’s go,” Roam uttered, stopping behind Anika, waiting impatiently for her to move.
Anika straightened, but she kept her eyes on me, twisting her body to maintain eye contact. “Don’t call him, Vik.”
I would not promise anything. Not when it came to her safety.
At the door, Roam followed Anika through before turning, winking and stating with blatant undertone, “Don’t wait up.”
It took everything I had not to head down to my room, pull out my piece, and shoot him right between the eyes.
My anger had me jumping out of my skin. Fuck. I wanted to kill him, and I would have if he wasn’t the sole reason I was getting myself out of a very sticky situation.
But at what cost?
From the window, I watched Roam get the door for Anika, and once she slipped into his black, futuristic-looking Mercedes Benz, my gut sank with the weight of a boulder. He got in, the car started, and my breathing got heavy. They took off, and my throat tightened.
She was gone. I couldn’t protect her.
My mother wept, and I regained focus. I wished I hadn’t when I turned to face her. Her misery cut me all over. Even more so when she whispered a broken, “What have you done?”
It felt like I’d been cut in two. “I’ll fix this.”
“No,” my father breathed. “No more fixing. No more rough work. No more anything.” He turned his furious gaze on me and thundered, “No more!”
My heart broke. “I can fix this, Pops,” I tried to explain. “I’ve been trying to fix this.”
My father looked at me then like he didn’t even know me, and it gutted me whole. What he said haunted me. “Who asked you to?”
He slid his arm around my mother’s shaking shoulders and walked her out of the room, out of sight, leaving me alone with my chaotic thoughts, knowing I couldn’t have fucked this up harder if I tried.
Anika
“Eat something.”
I was a little hungry but I was also being defiant. The handsome, dangerous man opposite me kept his fierce gaze on me, and eating suddenly seemed like a good way to get him to stop. So, I lifted my fork, stabbed a piece of the roasted pumpkin and pine nut pasta, and brought it to my mouth. It was delicious, of course, but I refused to show it and give him the satisfaction.
The way he watched me chew in sheer fascination had me lowering my eyes, trying like hell to stop the flush from appearing at my neck.
And in the brief time spent with him, I learned something and learned it fast.
Roam was intense.
After a short amount of silence, I asked carefully, “What do you want from me?”
My mind lit up like a Christmas tree with all the images of the “what ifs” that may be.
Ignoring his own meal, he responded a cool, “Right now, I want you to eat.”
And so I did, because it seemed a hell of a lot better than talking to him. Only once I’d eaten a quarter of my meal did he begin to eat his own, and while he didn’t scarf it down like an animal, he ate in a way that made me think his beginnings were a bit more humble than mine.
I didn’t want to admit I was intrigued by him. I hated to concede that he was good-looking in a way that made my tongue swell. There was something about him though. Something almost… sad.
Our meals eaten, we sat in silence, exchanging inquisitive glances. He sipped at his whisky, holding the tumbler effortlessly in his large hand until the quiet was suddenly suffocating.
“What would you like to talk about?” I asked in an attempt to make him believe I was trying here.
His unexpected response shut me down. “I don’t like to talk much.”
Right. Sure. Because why would he make this easy on me?
I hesitated but found myself saying, “I’m having a hard time figuring out what you want from me—apart from the obvious, that is.”
Roam snuffled out a laugh, and when he said, “I don’t want to have sex with you,” I could have died of mortification, because I really assumed he did. And when he added, “I just want to fuck with your brother. Get inside his head. Make him think I want that.” My brows bunched in puzzlement.