Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I loved this apartment. It was something I had for the first time for just me and my son. Now, I know all I will see is Scott tainting it by walking through the door.
Being in my kitchen.
Being in my space.
I hate him.
People as vile as him shouldn’t be allowed to live.
As I move toward the kitchen, the doorbell rings.
“You should get that, honey!” Scott calls out. I turn the knife in my hand and open the door to find a lady nervously wringing her hands.
“Who are you?” I seethe, and her head drops, eyes on the floor.
“Scott said I had to come. I’m a nanny. Magina,” she says in a small voice.
“Let her in. We need her so we can talk.”
“You think I’ll let your whore look after my son?” I say through gritted teeth. “Think again.”
Scott steps up behind me, and his hand reaches up and grips my neck, squeezing as he leans down to my ear. “Let her the fuck in, or I won’t be kind. I’ll slit your throat right here and now.”
That’s it.
That. Is. It.
I turn my attention to the nanny, whose eyes are still downcast. Scott has not let me go yet.
“You should go.” I slam the door in her face, which makes Scott squeeze even harder.
“Bad decision. Whore.” He moves, and I know his plan before he even does anything. He plans to hit me with his fists. When he pushes me forward, I manage to break his grip by ducking, and when I turn, the knife goes straight into his stomach. “Fuck,” he says on a grunt. His hands release me, and he looks down to his stomach, where the knife’s handle protrudes from his flesh.
I look up at him, shocked that I had done that.
“Never put your hands on me again,” I say as I step up to him.
That was a mistake.
“I am not yours, never have been. You asshole.” I go to step around him, but what I said only made him angrier. His hand shoots out and captures me, slamming my back into the wall next to the door. With his other hand, he opens the door, and the nanny is still standing there. She takes one look at us, and her eyes go wide.
“Go and occupy my son,” he commands. She looks at me, but Scott is blocking off my air, so I can’t speak. “Now!” She hurries past us, and those eyes that hold so much lust and rage stare back at me. “Silly, silly girl.”
I try to speak, but he applies more pressure.
“I was coming to bring you back. You would have eventually seen the error of your ways and realized I’m the only one who’s right for you. It’s why your father gave you to me in the first place.”
I reach up and scrape at his hands with my fingernails, but he doesn’t budge. Then, lifting my knee, I hit his stomach. It misses the knife but makes him take a step back.
“You were always so feisty. It’s one of the reasons I had to have you. Your father said you couldn’t be tamed but look what we did. We tamed you for a short period of time.”
“I was pregnant, you asshole.”
“We can always make you pregnant again.” My eyes go wide at his words. “You didn’t want kids but look how much you love Jerome. It was a good choice.”
I don’t argue with him.
Jerome will always be my best decision.
That does not mean I want to do it again, though.
Especially not with Scott.
“You will stitch me up because if you don’t, you will never see your son again. Magina has strict orders to hurt Jerome if you kill me.”
I shake my head before responding, “You wouldn’t hurt our son.”
He leans in. “Don’t underestimate my want for you, Adora. I will do anything if it involves you.” A chill runs up and down my spine.
“Remove your hands.” He drops them, and I touch my neck.
“My marks always look so good on you,” he states, looking at my neck before he glances down at his stomach. “Now, get this fucking knife out of me and stitch me up.”
I push past him and go straight for the bathroom, where the first-aid kit is stored in the cupboard. He doesn’t follow me, just stands at the door, watching.
“Your room?” he asks, nodding to the door next to the bathroom. I nod, and he opens the door, pulling off his shirt before lying on it. As soon as I’m standing before him again, I pull the knife out none too gently. He grunts loudly before his hands grip the bed. “Stitch it.” Getting out the suture tray and supplies, I try to stop my hands from trembling. “Why do you have to disobey me? We could be happy.” I feel his eyes on me.