Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 152710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Preventing her from having to reply, I kiss her shoulder and leave. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.
Alone in the kitchen, as I prepare Lina a cup of tea, I let the hurt of her silence sink in. Monsters have hearts, too.
I choose to work from home for the rest of the afternoon, in case Lina needs me, and check in on her every hour. She naps a little and spends the rest of the time freaking out about the bat until the guard returns and tells us the little guy will stay at the vet until his wing has mended.
When we sit down for dinner, Lina comes downstairs wearing another one of my shirts to say she doesn’t feel well and will eat in the room. She’s already asked Jana for a tray.
Every protective instinct I have goes into overdrive. I’m on my feet in a flash. “What’s wrong?”
“Just, um, a little headache.”
I press my hand against the nape of her neck. “Do you have a fever?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you urinated?”
She makes big eyes and says in a reprimanding way, “Damian.”
“Upstairs.”
“You’re overreacting. It’s just a little—”
“Now.” I take her arm and lead her to the door.
She doesn’t look at Zane or Anne as she excuses herself but keeps her head high and her back straight all the way to the bedroom, even when I’m her only audience.
I point at the bed. “Lie down.”
“Damian.”
Retrieving the medicine kit from the bathroom, I carry it back to the bed. She’s still standing on her feet, looking uncomfortable and angry.
“On your stomach,” I say.
She huffs but climbs onto the bed.
I remove the thermometer and pop it into the corner of her mouth. Crossing my arms, I count the seconds. She rolls her eyes when I pull it free.
“No fever,” I say.
“I told you.”
“Tell me where it aches.”
“Just my head.”
“Are you drinking enough?”
“Yes, and I urinated fifteen minutes ago.”
I lift the shirt and check her back. The welts are red, some already fading. There are no new bruises indicated shallow bleeding. I inspect her soles and toenails. I feel her pulse. Everything seems normal, but my heartbeat won’t calm.
“I just need to rest,” she says, avoiding my eyes.
Something is off. “Does anything hurt inside?”
“Not more than usual.”
“More than usual?”
“Earlier.” She blushes. “You were rough in the end.”
“Was there bleeding?”
“No.”
Shaking two painkillers from the bottle, I hand them to her with a glass of water. I wait until she’s drank everything.
“I’ll eat in the room with you.”
“No,” she says too quickly. Seeming to catch herself, she bites her lip. “I need time alone.”
I don’t like it, but I can understand. “Where’s your phone?”
“In my bag.” She points at the sofa by the fireplace.
I retrieve it and leave it on the bedside table. “Call me if anything changes or if you need something.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“Not up for discussion. You call me. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whispers, looking guilty.
“It’s my job to take care of you.” Especially when I’m the reason for her pain.
“Fine.”
I take her hand, enjoying the feel of her much smaller palm in mine, and kiss her fingers. “Later.”
I don’t like the distance I’m putting between us when I go downstairs. The only reason I trudge forward is to honor her request, but I feel uneasy. She’s not going to puke or cut herself, or she’d have done so a long time ago. I’m uneasy because I have a weird notion of somehow failing her.
Back in the dining room, Anne’s sultry smile greets me. For the first time, I notice the red dress that hugs her figure. Her make-up and hair are done. She’s flirting throughout dinner. Not in the mood for conversation, I ignore her unless she asks me a direct question.
When Zane announces he’s going out after dessert, I see the setup for what it is. How did Anne convince Lina to play along? Is my wife so eager to be rid of me, she’ll sell me out to the very guest she invited? Or is this why she invited Anne to stay? Was she hoping I’d fall for Anne and forget about her? The possibility of that happening is so ridiculous, I almost laugh out loud.
I’m excusing myself when Anne grabs my arm. “Damian, we need to talk.”
I look at where her red fingernails dig into the fabric of my jacket. “I disagree.”
Slowly, she removes her grip. “You’ve been avoiding me since the last dinner when I wanted to talk to you, the night you cut off that guy’s fingers.”
I don’t want to be reminded of that night. It was a huge mistake to bring the asshole here, and I still regret that Lina had to see that. I get up.
“It’s about Lina.”
I still. Anne smiles, already victorious.
“What about Lina?”
She pushes up from the table. “You need to see this.”
Walking around me, she goes to the kitchen. I follow, because she’s right. Anything that concerns Lina is my business.