Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“What did you say?”
“That I wanted her employer’s details and to see her rental contract.”
“And?” Anya asks with futile optimism.
Her hope is about to be squashed, and I hate Mary for it. “She left.”
“Oh.” Anya’s face drops. “How did she look? I mean, was she okay?”
“Good, actually.” Surprisingly, because Mary hasn’t changed overnight. She didn’t go from vindictive and destructive to a cleaned-up, doting mother and grandmother in the span of a few weeks. “You didn’t tell me she showed up here before.”
Anya strokes Claire’s chest. “So many things were happening. You were still in the ICU. Later, when you were getting better, I forgot.” She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. “I’m just glad she’s not dead. I call the morgue and the hospitals every day, and each time, I expect the worst.”
Reaching over Claire, I rub Anya’s arm. The comfort is measly. I’d much rather fix this for her, but I have a feeling there’s never going to be any fixing Mary. “What do you want to do?”
“Nothing.” Anya’s pretty mouth hardens. “For now. I’m willing to help her if she proves she’s ready to change.”
“That’s more or less what I told her.”
“I offered to pay for her stay at the center until she’s showed me that she’s clean and sober. If I give her money, she’s just going to end up spending it on pills and alcohol. It sounds mean not to trust her, but she’s only disappointed me time and again.”
Resting my head in my hand, I study Anya’s pale skin and those cute freckles on her nose. I want to kiss each one. Unable not to touch her, I hook a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s not mean. It’s responsible. She’s proven she can’t be trusted. Until that changes, you’re right to be careful. She’s put both your lives in danger in the past. That’s not something anyone can take lightly.”
She nods, averting her eyes.
“There’s something else,” I say.
At the graveness of my tone, she looks up.
“When the attacks on Raphael start, you, Claire, and Livy are staying in the house. I want you here where you’re safe and protected. I won’t risk you going in to After Dark.”
“What if I go with the guards?”
My answer leaves no room for argument. “No.” In this, I’m not willing to budge, no matter how much they defy me.
“How long do you think it will last?”
“Three weeks. Four max.”
“Okay,” she says, looking brave and scared and so fucking pretty at the same time.
So mine.
Grateful that she’s not making an issue out of this, adding to my worry, I give her a sincere, “Thank you.”
We fall quiet after that. I watch over my girls, waiting until they’re asleep before I take my cane and go to the study where I sit down behind my desk and wake up my laptop. There’s an odd tremble to my hand when I take the USB key from my pocket. Whatever is on here is serious. Otherwise, Lewis wouldn’t have gone to the lengths of hiding it in his locker at a golf club.
Curious as well as nervously excited, I insert the key into the slot reader and open the single folder it holds. Inside are several spreadsheets. I click on one after the other, my stomach bottoming out as understanding blooms.
Fuck.
The evidence is damning.
If Anya wanted to, she could’ve buried me. She could’ve burned me alive. If she’d taken this to the cops, they would’ve put me away for so long I’d never see the sun again. If Anya wanted to escape me, this would’ve been the perfect blackmail material. If she wanted to condemn me, she had the means in the palm of her hand.
Yet, she’s here, sleeping in my bed. Our bed. She didn’t go to Switzerland. She didn’t leave me. Out of all the people I cared about in my life, she’s the only person who hasn’t abandoned me. Not even my parents stuck around when they discovered who I truly was. But despite knowing the darkest corners of my soul and the blood that stains my hands, Anya stayed. She gave up freedom for a dangerous life with half a man, a man with a face that’s been through a blender. It’s only then that I get why she said what sits in front of me is proof of her love.
If that doesn’t convince you that I love you, nothing will.
I got what I wanted. I should be smug if not ecstatic. Let’s face it, I worked hard for that goal. My seduction and actions were shaped to make her physically and emotionally dependent on me. Even though I executed every well-designed gesture because I liked to take care of her, they weren’t without ulterior motives. Yet as I wait for the victory to set in, for that sense of completion to fill me, the joy doesn’t come. Something is missing. It’s not the fulfillment I expected to experience at her complete submission and total surrender.