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)
“Witness,” Brooks said. “I was there. I signed the paperwork. Their marriage is legally binding and legitimate.”
My father shook his head again, a look of utter betrayal on his face as his eyes met mine. “You have no idea what you’ve fucked up,” he said, using the tone he'd adopted since I was young, scolding me in a way that normally had me standing up straighter.
I was too tired to do that today. To do it ever again.
“And you,” he continued, returning his focus to Gareth. “I promise you, you’ll regret this.” With a glare, he spun on his heels and stomped down the hallway.
Gareth calmly shut the door, bolting both locks before he turned around to finally look at me.
My knees finally gave out, and I sank to the floor, right there in the middle of the entryway in front of Gareth and Brooks.
I sucked in a trembling breath, willing my heart to slow, but I couldn’t turn off every fear and worry and submissive reaction that my father had cultivated within me over the past twenty-five years.
I didn't know how long it would take to heal from that damage, or if it was even possible. I could only hope, with Gareth's protection, that I’d have the time and space to figure it out.
But right now?
I felt like that stupid little girl my father accused me of being. I felt foolish and naïve and completely out of my depth.
I felt like giving up.
The idea of climbing out of the hole I'd been raised in was so damn overwhelming.
“Brooks,” Gareth said, as he hurried over to me. “Grab us some food, would you? We need to eat before we get on the plane.”
“On it,” he said, hurrying out of the room.
Gareth’s scent washed over me as he crouched down to my level, tipping my chin up in that gentle way of his, even with hands as deadly as his. It was almost a mirror image of the way he’d looked at me last night—the silent, protective look. Of course, I had no idea if that was because I was just a valuable investment, but right now I didn't care.
“He's not going to hurt you,” Gareth said, his tone unflinching. “You’re safe with me.”
I breathed deeply, doing my best to pull myself together. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but the unknown was almost as terrifying as facing my father's wrath.
“Do you hear me?” Gareth asked when I hadn't responded. “No one is going to hurt you.”
I nodded and tried to convey my thanks with a silent look, but I wasn't really sure if it was coming across as anything more than a grimace. My emotions were all over the place. I did my best to focus on the present, to ground myself in what I had control of now.
Which wasn't much.
“May I take a shower?”
Gareth seemed taken aback by the question. “Of course,” he said, offering his hand and helping me to my feet.
He looked like he was prepared to walk me all the way into the shower if he needed to, but I stepped away from his touch, waving him off.
“I'm fine now,” I said.
He gave me a nod, and I carried myself the rest of the way, turning the hot water on before taking off the ridiculous nightgown I’d put on last night, hoping to seduce Gareth Maxfield.
As I stepped under the hot water, it almost seemed comical to me. The idea of me showing up in something silky and modest and hoping that the big, bad, tattooed mobster would fall to his knees for me.
An image of him on his knees before me as he offered me the solution to my problem burned in my mind.
I wondered what would have happened if things had gone differently? If we’d had sex and ruined all the selling power my father had?
With a night to sleep on it, Gareth had been right.
It would’ve made me unsellable, but my father would have hurt me over it. Possibly killed me.
What Gareth did, marrying me, had saved my life. Probably in more ways than he even realized. And even if it was just because of the favor chip, it still meant something to me.
After my shower, I forced myself to get ready slowly, focusing on each movement, each task, to keep from crumbling.
I pulled on a pair of sweats and an oversized T-shirt that I found among Gareth's things. I hadn’t thought to bring a bag last night, reacting solely on instinct after the fight with my father. I was nowhere reckless enough to try and go back to get my clothes now.
I dried my hair, counting each brush stroke, the mundane actions helping stave off some of the anxiety that threatened to close my airways. I had no makeup to speak of, but while an immaculate, put-together appearance was always nonnegotiable for my father, it was the least of my concerns today.