Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
My father always taught me forgiveness, but I can’t find any in my heart for her. Even if she walked into this room right now, holding a gun to her head and pleading for me to forgive her, I couldn’t.
The thought of never seeing my mother again doesn’t fill me with dread. In fact, it calms me. Does that make me exactly the same as my uncle? Perhaps. But when it comes to her, I don’t care. No mother should abandon her child.
“Hi,” Grecia’s soft voice comes from the doorway, causing me to open my eyes, and look directly at her.
She’s wearing a short nightshirt, or something similar, and I can see every inch of her long, lithe legs.
“What are you doing here, Grecia?”
“Thane said I should keep you company,” she tells me, padding into the office in her bare feet. “He’s been very nice to me.”
She sounds as shocked about that as I feel. I half expected the asshole to kill me the moment I stepped foot off the plane.
I watch her as she moves about the room before making her way to the bar to pour herself a whiskey. One thing I’ve learned about Grecia is that she’s no fragile girl. She’s a fighter and can be strong and vicious when she needs to be.
“So, you decided to come down here in a skimpy nightshirt. Why?” I arch a brow at her, noticing her cheeks turn dark pink when she looks over at me again.
“I had a shower, and there was nothing to wear. Our suitcases are still on the plane. I found this shirt hanging in the closet of my bedroom, so I put it on.”
She settles in the seat across from me, and my eyes lock on the hemline of the shirt as it slides up her tanned thighs. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Do you enjoy taunting me?” I question.
Grecia smiles but doesn’t answer. Instead, she lifts the glass to her lips and sips the amber liquid. Her lips shimmer with the alcohol, tempting me to claim her mouth, to kiss her like she craves to be kissed, and to taste her along with the smokiness of the whiskey.
“How do you get on with your mother?” I ask her suddenly.
It’s a random question, but it’s a change of subject that I’m hoping will calm down the hard on I’m trying desperately to hide from her.
Hazel eyes lock on mine with intense curiosity burning in them.
“Okay, I guess,” she shrugs noncommittally, her gaze lowering to the glass in her hand.
Grecia’s response is evasive, and I wonder how she really feels about her mother, but I realize I shouldn’t have brought the subject up.
“I’m sorry. I should never have asked,” I tell her.
Her pretty eyes snap back to mine, shock written on her face, and I know she wasn’t expecting me to apologize or show any empathy toward her.
I’m cold and standoffish with her, most of the time, but it’s for her own good. I don’t want her to want me.
But even as I think it, I know it’s a lie.
CHAPTER 12
GRECIA
Tarian’s never shown any consideration toward me since I’ve known him. In fact, he’s never been particularly nice to be around. I’ve always known Tarian Calvert is broken. I can see the pain etched on his perfectly sculpted face, and his stare is filled with the ghosts of his past.
I’m not sure anything can mend him, not even love.
Blinking a few times to stop the thought from taking root in my mind, I focus on our conversation. I don’t know why he mentioned my mother, but right now, I don’t want to think about her.
When my mother married Leonard Harding, I thought World War Three would break out when two broken families joined into one. Kelli became my stepsister, and I had to deal with her moving into our house. She acted as if she owned the place, so in the end, I chose to hide in the shadows.
“What are you looking at?” I ask, gesturing to the laptop.
I can see the turmoil in Tarian’s expression. Rage is emanating from him as his gaze drops to the screen in front of him and he regards whatever is displayed there.
Silence hangs between us.
The atmosphere feels threatening. And for the first time since I’ve been with Tarian, I shiver with a cold trickle of fear.
“My mother left a flash drive with Thane,” he tells me while continuing to stare at the screen. His voice is devoid of any emotion now, as if a switch has been flicked. “There are three letters, two of which I’ve read, but the one addressed to me, I can’t bring myself to open.”
I watch him with curiosity. The idea of Tarian being fearful of anything seems strange. But what’s even more odd is the fact his mother’s written him a letter even though she could tell him what she wants to say, face-to-face.