Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
He hadn't touched me, except for a microsecond of a kiss he'd given me at the altar. And even in a moment of rare boldness, like this morning in the kitchen where I'd offered myself up to him, he’d turned me down as bluntly as possible.
He was determined to leave me as untouched as I’d come into this marriage.
I was determined to at least leave it with some form of power of my own.
Without my virginity, I was of no value to my father or the family. My father dictated my education, offering nothing outside of the basics. Anytime I’d begged my father to let me try something new, like painting or music or reading anything that wasn’t educational, anything that would give me some form of emotional escape, I'd always been met with a stern lecture. The only thing I needed to grow my skill set in was being a good, submissive wife. Because that's what I was born for. Because I hadn't been born a male, a prince to the Irish throne, but a girl, nothing but a pretty, pure princess with an equally pretty price tag.
Emotion clogged my throat, tears building in the backs of my eyes that I couldn't stop, no matter how hard I cursed myself.
Tears were a weakness, and ground for punishment.
Just like speaking out of turn was.
Although these past couple of years, I had cared less and less about the punishments. Ever since my father started taking me to the billionaire’s game, and I was exposed to more of the outside world rather than the environment that was created for me. Somewhere along the way, I’d found a sort of courage. It hadn't been enough to stand up to my father, but I’d savored the little pieces given to me during the games when my father wasn't watching.
An easy, nonjudgmental conversation with the girls.
Or, more importantly, the few precious words and almost forbidden looks that Gareth had given me every game.
I looked forward to those brief moments in time more than anything else in the world, and maybe it was those treasured seconds that had given me the courage I needed to seek Gareth out the night I found out my father was planning to sell me.
I'd always known my father was a cruel bastard, but I never once assumed that he would be the one negotiating the marriage. Yes, I knew that I’d been born and bred to be a mobster’s wife, but I had thought I could choose which allying family I wanted to give my life to.
Stupid of me, especially given all the other evidence in my life that took my choices away. My food, my clothes, my makeup, the way I wore my hair, the music I listened to, the people I was allowed to speak with. All had been selected for me. And there was such a lack of female companionship on that approved list that I found myself unsure how to interact with the girls at the billionaire’s game for the first few months.
They’d been so kind, though, so understanding and gentle with me and my social awkwardness. They never once made me feel out of place, even though I was well aware I wasn't like them.
I wasn't an independent woman with career dreams and aspirations of my own who happened to fall in love with somebody at that table.
No, I’d been a piece of luggage. A high-value asset dragged to each game to be flaunted and displayed. It was a test, taking me to every billionaire’s game after he won his seat in the match. He wanted to see how I would behave should he marry me off.
I’d obviously lived up to his every expectation since he’d been brokering a deal at the last one.
An icy drop of fear slid down my spine, making me shiver.
If I hadn't gone to Gareth’s room that night, if I didn’t win that favor chip, I’d be married to a seventy-year-old, cruel, emotionless man. One who had no interest in me beyond the heir I would hopefully give him.
I shuddered again, knowing in the very depths of my soul that even if I hadn’t had that favor chip, I would’ve gone to Gareth’s room.
Sure, Asher or Crossland or Ethan or Weston had been more than welcoming and kind to me, but they didn't understand my world like Gareth did.
And besides all that, Gareth had always spoken on my behalf, even when he knew it would cause a deeper rift between him and my father.
The tentative peace between our families hung by a thin string, and all his speaking for me threatened to snap it entirely. But he’d never cared, and when those pale green eyes would cast their gaze over me, a silent look asking me if I was okay, it felt more than natural to go to his room that night.