Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 123212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Admiration filled me.
“I’m proud of you,” I said. “Saying that when I’m angry at you tastes like vinegar.”
Kane smiled, and I loved what it did to his marred but still very handsome face.
“It means a lot to hear you say that.”
“It does?”
“Yes, because I know you don’t know the reasons we did the horrible things you were told, so knowing you’re proud of what I’m doing shows your true character. You’re a good girl. A good woman. And my brother is a lucky bastard to have you.”
I felt my cheeks burn with heat.
“Are still threatening to kick me out if I don’t talk to said brother?”
“Yes.”
“Arsehole.” I scowled. “You’ve gone mad with power.”
Kane’s grey eyes lit with amusement
“Can I go and tell him you’ll speak to him? Please say yes. The kid is pleading for another chance, Alannah. He loves you so much he can’t function without you. Trust me, I’ve seen him over the past two weeks, and he is a mess. He literally needs a good woman like you.”
Damien needed me just like I needed him.
“On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You let me keep Barbara even though no animals are allowed in the buildin’.”
Kane snorted. “Done.”
Before I could overthink a reason not to, I said, “Go get ’im then.”
I was dreading what he was going to tell me, but I needed to hear it, and I had a feeling that whatever it was, Damien needed to say it as much as I needed to hear it. For once, I was going to push my fear of the unknown aside to do what I feared the most and face my hurt head-on. I didn’t know what the outcome would be, but I could do nothing but hope and pray for the best.
What’s meant to be, will be.
“Alannah?”
My heart just about stopped as apprehension filled me.
“I’m in the sittin’ room.”
I turned my eyes from the window to Damien when he entered the room, and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to run to him. I missed him so much it hurt, but before the possibility of a reconciliation could happen, we needed to talk.
“Sit down.”
He did just that on the settee facing me.
“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” he said, clasping his hands together as he rested his elbows on his knees. “I know how hard it is for you.”
“Talkin’ to you isn’t hard,” I said. “It’s one of the easiest things to do. The hardest is hearin’ what you have to say.”
“I know, baby.”
My heart yearned for him the second he called me baby.
“I’m goin’ to listen to whatever you have to say with an open-mind, so don’t dilute anythin’.”
“I won’t,” Damien answered. “I told you when you were ready that I’d tell you everything, and I’m going to do that.”
I nodded and waited.
My heart thrummed in my chest.
“My parents were murdered by a man called Marco Miles,” Damien said with his eyes locked on mine. “My dad was Marco’s best friend and had been since they were kids. They started up their empire from scratch and grew it from the ground up. They had links to most likely every mafia family in and out of the States, every drug cartel known to man, and others that were unknown, and they had the law in their back pocket for decades.”
Breathe, I told myself. Just breathe.
“My brothers and I grew up in a lifestyle that was nothing like yours. We were treated like princes and got whatever our hearts desired because of who our dad was. Escorts were servicing me and Dominic from the time we were thirteen; the first onces were actually a birthday gift from our brothers. Our lives were a blur up until my mom and dad got killed just after my and Dominic’s fifteenth birthday.”
Damien’s leg began to bob up and down as he spoke.
“My dad crossed Marco, looking to get some extra money on a drug deal, so Marco had my dad and mom killed. They were best friends, had known each other their whole lives, but my dad’s greed for money and power changed him, made him hollow… evil. My mom was no better; the only thing she loved was money and materialistic things. I didn’t lie to you about that; she and my dad were cold to me and my brothers.”
My heart hurt for him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry you were raised by loveless parents; I hurt for you knowin’ that.”
Damien cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
I leaned back in the chair and waited.
“For a long time after my parents died”—he sighed—“I convinced myself that I didn’t love my brothers.”
My lips parted in shock.
“I have always been the affectionate brother,” he continued. “I was always the one who craved my parents’ love and attention, and when they didn’t give it to me, I’d do crazy things to get it. After they were murdered, I was so lost in grief that I was terrified of losing any of my brothers, so I pretended I didn’t love them. That way if I did lose them, it wouldn’t hurt. I told myself I tolerated them because they were my flesh and blood. It made me a nasty son of a bitch to be around at times. Because of that, I never let anyone close. I had sex with a lot of different women because it was the only connection that I could control. I was hollow inside … until I met you.”