Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“She says ‘Welcome back. Did Sofie tell you about her visitor?’” I look up from the screen, a frown sketched between my brows. “What visitor?”
“Why that little…” Sofie pushes her plate away, reaching for her wine to take a sip.
“What visitor, Sofie?” My voice hardens. “And don’t lie to me.”
Sofie rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She clears her throat, tongue swiping across her lips.
“It wasn’t a big deal. I wish Stil hadn’t—”
“What. Visitor.”
“Kyle came to my office one night.”
Rage blurs my vision and pounds the blood in my ears, drowning out everything else for a second.
“What the hell?” I demand, on my feet, fists clenched. “When?”
“The day…” She drops her words for a second, drawing and releasing a quick breath. “The day before I went public.”
“But that was more than a week ago.” I run agitated hands through my hair. “How many times have we spoken since then, Sof? And you never even mentioned it?”
“I wasn’t going to…well, I didn’t think you needed to know.”
“Why the hell would you not tell me that?” I slam my fist into my palm, needing it to be Manchester’s face.
“Because of that!” she points to my fist. “I knew you’d respond just like this, and it won’t help a damn thing, Bishop.”
“Won’t help?” I lean forward until our noses almost touch and our breath mingles. “What did he say? What did he want?”
She doesn’t back down, doesn’t shy away, but meets my anger with her determination.
“He wanted to convince me that I had it all wrong. He wanted me to drop it all, and when I refused, he tried to intimidate me.”
“Who was there with you?” My voice, gruff, growling.
“No one,” she whispers. “It was just me. He came by after everyone had gone.”
Fury, helpless fury, almost chokes me. This is exactly what I feared, that he’d find a way to get to her. That I wouldn’t be around to protect her.
“You should have told me, Sofie.”
“So what?” She gestures to the fist balled at my side. “So you could go beat him to a pulp?”
“Fuck yeah, and I still can.”
“Good luck with that.” Her laugh is brittle. “He had a security detail with him. If you can get through those thugs, then what? It won’t change anything, Bishop.”
She stands, her eyes wet with rare tears.
“You could beat him till the cows come home, but it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change the fact that he raped me. It wouldn’t give anything back to me. It won’t make this any easier.”
And that’s it. I want to make it all go away for her. It drives me insane that I can’t fix this, that I can’t protect her from, not a knife or a gun, but from words. From opinions. There is a part of me that wishes I’d never encouraged her to come forward, because it’s killing me to see her suffer this way.
“Sofie, I have to do something. He should pay.”
She reaches up, clasping my face between her hands, melding our eyes together with the heat of her conviction.
“He will pay. That’s why we have to do this right. I don’t need you to beat him up. I don’t need you pissing circles around me, going caveman, comparing sizes.” She laughs humorlessly. “Believe me. Yours is bigger.”
I rest my forehead against her, managing only a breath before she goes on.
“You are my only vulnerability, Trevor,” she says, her voice trembling over my lips. “You’re the only spotless thing in my life, and if he can bring you down to his level, if he can ruin you, he knows it will throw me off. He knows I may give in.”
“Sofie, I’m not spotless. I’m not perfect, darlin’. I’m not a saint.”
“No, you’re no saint.” She closes her eyes, huddling against my bare chest, rubbing my back. “But in this fucked-up fairy tale, you’re the only prince I’ve got.”
“Baby—”
“I need you to hold me.” A tear escapes from under her closed eyes, making its way down her cheek. “I need you to remind me that there’s more to me than what they say, that there’s good in me. I need you to take care of me in the ways that count. Can you do that?”
She lifts her head, rubbing my biceps with one hand, taking my hand with the other. I’m speechless. All I can do is grip her tighter to me. I sit down, pulling her across my lap, pushing the hair off her neck so I can leave kisses there. Shelving my anger, my vengeance, is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do, but I can do it for now. For her.
“Yeah. I can do that.”
Sofie’s phone vibrates on the table, Walsh Bennett’s name flashing on the screen. Sofie rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“I can’t,” she says. “I know why he’s calling, and I just can’t. He wants to apologize for what happened with the foundation. I have to put that behind me for now.”