Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
If he couldn’t raise a kid, why bring him into the world?
The back of my neck prickles as if Adrian is feeling my thoughts about him and will lash out his punishments for having them.
Jeremy picks two pieces and clicks them together. Jesus. The little rascal knows how to do this better than me. I really hope it’s because he’s seen it done countless times before and not because I suck.
“Don’t you feel bad about him not being around more?” I ask.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Papa stayed with me when you were a ghost, Mommy.”
17
Winter
I frown. That’s the second time he’s said that word. “Why do you say that I was a ghost, Jer?”
“Because you were,” he says nonchalantly, his feet swinging back and forth. “I went to see you.”
“You came to see me?”
“Uh-huh.” He points to his right. “Over there.”
My eyes follow the direction of his thumb. It’s a small white building, separate from the house. It doesn’t appear as well-kept as the main mansion. Cracks cover the exterior and vines of ivy grow on its walls, covering most of them.
The place instantly gives me a horrible feeling, like a bitter aftertaste mixed with vomit.
I realize this is the guest house Adrian told me to stay away from, and I have every intention to. But Jeremy’s words about me—the real Lia—being a ghost throw me for a loop. What could be in there for a child to think of it as ‘ghostly’?
I’m about to ask Yan, but my gaze shifts to the left and I freeze. In the main house, Adrian stares at me through a floor-to-ceiling window. He’s behind a desk in what I assume is his office. Three monitors sit in front of him, but his attention is entirely on me as he taps his index finger on the wood surface.
He’s watching me so intently, it feels like he’s standing right over my head and sucking at my soul. I try to break eye contact, but the sheer intensity of his ashen gray eyes takes me hostage.
Adrian is merely observing me, but it strikes deeper, like a demand, a call—for what, I don’t know.
What the hell do you want from me? I scream with my eyes, pursing my lips, but his focus doesn’t shift.
I’m the first to avert my gaze, because looking into his eyes is still uncomfortable. It still resembles being choked by invisible hands. The act isn’t real, but it’s as palpable as the burn in my lungs and the contractions in my stomach.
That’s one step further than when I first met him. Back then, it was only a sense of uneasiness. Now, I can decipher the reason behind that feeling—it’s the terrifying awakening of a side of me I hate so much. Every time I see his eyes, all I can think about is how much depravity hides behind that calm. And how much I crave it, like nothing ever before.
After losing my mother and daughter, I thought I was done with this life. I was done wanting things.
Adrian has proved me wrong.
The man is married, or a widower, and I shamelessly came on his fingers. Twice.
I internally shake my head. It’s not like I came to him or I can walk away from this. He’s the one at fault for replacing his wife so soon.
I continue playing with Jeremy, trying to ignore the way Adrian’s gaze digs into me like he’s peeling off my damn skin, layer by each agonizing layer. I only release a breath when Kolya joins him and his attention is momentarily distracted from me.
Jeremy and I have lunch together and I ask Yan to come with us. After living on the streets for so long, I’ve learned to share my meals, especially with people I feel at ease with. I wish Larry was around, and since I have no way to reach him, I somehow pretend that Yan is his replacement.
The guard shakes his head while Ogla fixes me with one of her judgmental stares for even suggesting it.
Adrian is still cooped up in his office and doesn’t join us for lunch. Something that I want to ignore, but think about during the entire meal.
After I put Jeremy down for his nap, a sense of emptiness echoes in my chest.
Thus far, the little angel has been keeping me busy, but now that he’s sleeping, nothing is able to.
Emptiness is bad as fuck in my case. If I don’t occupy my mind, it’ll occupy me, and that’s the last thing I want in light of the damn nightmares I don’t usually have.
I try searching for alcohol in the kitchen and come up empty-handed again. On my way out, Ogla startles me by appearing out of nowhere, standing in her rigid posture. The woman is everywhere, I swear.
I place a hand to my chest. “You scared me.”