Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Ava and Glyn did fly her to Ava’s family vacation house in the South of France. My disregard for Ava might have lowered because I got to watch Cecily in a bathing suit for a week.
I still had to put up with Kill’s annoying company for it. The difference is that he got to join them when they went swimming and for meals.
Me? I remained in the sun with a grouchy Ilya, who absolutely hates the heat and kept grumbling about his burned skin.
Cecily came over, gave him her sunscreen, then turned around and left.
I was so close to killing him.
I hate the way she smiles and talks to everyone, Ilya included, but when she meets my eyes, her joy disappears, and she looks away.
In fact, she’s been trying to kick me out ever since I landed in London—one day after her arrival. At first, she used her dad’s animosity toward me, but after the first few weeks, Xander got me drunk so I’d spill my secrets.
I told him I wouldn’t leave his daughter even if I died, and he smacked me upside the head.
Ilya, the idiot, told him that I got rid of Zayn and he personally did the cleanup. And while I’d planned to keep that information to myself, I’m thankful for the newfound respect Xander has for me ever since that night.
In fact, he thanked me for protecting Cecily when he wasn’t there. Little does he know that I wish I could revive that motherfucker Zayn and kill him all over again.
And again.
When I saw him sitting on her back while she was panting, I didn’t think about it as I pulled my knife and sliced his throat. He only saw me when the blood was exploding from his wound like a fountain.
If I’d been thinking straight, I wouldn’t have dirtied her with his blood. But I wasn’t. The only thing I was thinking about at the time was her safety and the crippling feeling at the possibility of losing her.
I only regret not having the chance to torture the fucker, but I can make up for that with Jonah. For the rest of his miserable life.
Anyway, despite Xander’s gratitude and the absence of an edge to his animosity, he still believes I should leave, per his daughter’s demands.
However, the genius way Kim handles him whenever she feels like he’s gone too far has saved me more times than I can count.
My day starts by waking up early in the penthouse of a building owned by my father, then I fix some breakfast for Ilya and me and we drive to Cecily’s house.
Usually, she has breakfast with her parents, her grandfathers, her uncle, and Ava. Sometimes, her mother’s friends join them. Other times, her father’s friends do. Upon meeting them a few times, I can absolutely see where the kids get their personalities from. Especially Remington. He’s a younger version of his father, Ronan, Xander’s closest and most chill friend.
Then I follow from afar as she goes to whatever organizations she volunteers at. Once, she pushed Ilya and me to give out food and shit because they were short on staff. Or more like, she pushed Ilya and told him to tell me to help instead of being a stalker with no purpose.
That’s what she does. She tells Ilya to tell me things when I’m right there, but she doesn’t speak to me.
I still follow her around anyway and make sure she gets home safe before I leave with the promise of seeing her again the next morning.
Some days, she stays home all day, reading, watching shit, and being Ava’s subject of torment. On other days, Ava convinces her to go out, and that usually ends up with them at the cinema, shopping, and fooling around. In classic Ava style, a documentary of each of their days is posted all over social media. One more thing to appreciate about the social butterfly.
Ilya and I try to remain as out of sight as possible so as not to disturb Cecily, but she sometimes looks at our hideout as if she always knows exactly where we are.
I guess being the subject of my ‘stalking’ for months has given her a pointer or two.
The other day, she was a bit drunk, stumbled to where I hid behind a corner, and said in a slur, “Why can’t you leave?”
“I just can’t,” I replied and held her so she wouldn’t fall.
She looked up at me with her big eyes, so lively and enchanting and fucking mine, pursed her lips, then murmured, “What if I don’t love you anymore?”
“Then I’ll make you love me again.”
“Prick,” she whispered, then fell asleep against my chest.
I stayed like that for far too long, enjoying the feeling of her body against mine until she started shivering from a cold breeze.