Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Once he’s in, Rhett pulls off. No one says a word on the way home. Gabriel puts his arm around me, holding me tight, and I close my eyes and cry quietly for the terrible act he committed for me.
* * *
Gabriel
At that hour, everyone at home is asleep. We park at the back so I can carry Valentina to her room without having to traverse the whole house. She objects when I lift her into my arms, but I don’t heed her. Rhett and Quincy will go back to deal with the body. They know the drill. Since that scumbag fucker son of a bitch Tiny wasn’t connected to any gang, there are no logistics or payoff to iron out. My priority is Valentina.
Oscar jumps from the tumble drier and runs ahead of me into Valentina’s room to keep guard in the windowsill. I lay her down on the bed and remove her trainers before stripping the dress. It’s going to the trashcan. I don’t want anything that filthy Zambian touched on her skin. Anyway, the dress is threadbare.
Going through the shelves of her closet, I find one T-shirt, a tank top, a pair of jeans that has seen better days, and a pair of shorts. These are all the clothes she owns? I make a mental note to go through her belongings later and grab the T-shirt.
Helping her to sit up, I dress her. After what happened, I don’t want her to feel vulnerable, and nakedness will do that.
“What time is it?” she asks.
“Almost six.”
“I need to get ready for work.”
She tries to get up, but I push her down.
“Stay.”
“I’m fine.” She looks up at me through her wet lashes, her lips quivering.
Yeah. She looks anything but fine, but she’s obstinate and worried that she’ll fail in her job and therefore get shot.
“Don’t move,” I say with enough authority to make her obey as I leave the room.
In the kitchen, I pour a stiff shot of whiskey and take a mild sedative from the medicine kit. The remedy is natural and won’t have adverse effects with the alcohol.
Sitting down on the edge of Valentina’s bed, I lift her head, slip the pill into her mouth, and hold the glass to her lips. “Drink up.”
She doesn’t argue. Her blind obedience heats my insides. It’s a huge step, and I don’t think she realizes how much trust she’s showing me.
Depositing the empty glass on the floor, I take her hand in mine. Her bones are delicate and thin in my palm––breakable. There are scratches on her knuckles, but they’re not deep. We can worry about that later. The sight of those marks unleashes the monster in me, though, and it takes some effort to calm myself enough to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?” I do, but I’m not going to push. Not now, at least.
She puts a hand on her forehead. “I–I don’t feel so good.”
My body tenses, every muscle going taught. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I just feel weird.”
“Tell me what you feel.”
“Dizzy. The world is turning.”
The effect of the alcohol is kicking in, but instead of relaxing her, it’s making her drunk.
“When was the last time you ate?” I ask with caution.
She lifts her eyes to the ceiling while she thinks. “Lunch.”
I try to keep my voice normal. “Yesterday?”
She clutches my hand like a riptide is about to pull us apart. “Gabriel?”
“It’s just the whiskey I gave you to relax. You need food. I’ll get you something to eat.” “You don’t have to. I can.” There’s a slight thickness to her speech.
“I know you can, beautiful.”
I pry her fingers open gently and go back to the kitchen to rummage through the fridge.
Going for as much carbs, fat, and protein as I can find, I pile a plate high with leftover Bacon Carbonara and add lots of cheese. While the food is heating in the microwave, I grab a fork and paper napkin. Back in her room, I prop her back up against the pillows and twist the pasta around the fork. When I bring it to her mouth, she utters a weak protest.
“Open,” I say.
Again, she obeys.
I feed her until the plate is empty before I pull her into my lap. “You should sleep now.”
She shakes her head, brushing her cheek over my chest. “Can’t. Have work to do.”
“It’s an order, not a request.”
Her eyelids are already heavy. “Thank you for saving me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Why were you there?”
I run my gaze over her face, drinking in her pretty features as the truth registers in her expression.
“You followed me?” she asks with disbelief, a tinge of hurt thrown into the mix.
“Your phone,” I replied flatly. “I planted a tracker in it before I gave it back to you.”
“Why? Don’t you trust me? Do you think I’ll run?”
If she knows the intensity of my obsession, it’ll expose the one weakness I can’t afford. I’ll lose my power over her, and that’s not something I’m willing to let go, ever, so I give her a warped version.