Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I swallow the bile burning the back of my throat while watching the dashboard count each floor. It is a long climb but worthwhile. It gives me the chance to settle some of the nerves slicking my skin with sweat and to work out how to explain to Jack that I had planned to tell him who I was, but I wasn’t given the chance.
When the elevator arrives at the penthouse floor, I breathe out the nerves making me feel ill before gingerly stepping into the elaborate space. It looks the same as it did only nights ago, but the heavy scent of alcohol makes it seem nowhere near as posh.
Someone has been drinking, and by the smell of it, in abundance.
I turn toward the bedroom on the other side of the penthouse when Jack’s voice roars through the double doors. “How could you not have said something? You knew who they fucking were, but you said nothing!”
He must have his caller on speaker because I hear her reply, “I tried, Jack. But then…”
When Marissa’s reply trails off, Jack demands an answer. “But then…”
Her sigh ruffles the shards of my heart. “But then I saw how you looked at her when you thought you’d upset her, so I figured it would be best to give you time to work it out yourself.”
“Mar—”
“But not her, Jack. I didn’t know she was involved. It was her cousin—”
I stop walking at the same time Marissa’s voice stops sounding out of the speaker of Jack’s cell phone. He must have placed his call on mute because not even her frantic breaths can be heard.
It feels like minutes pass before Jack eventually says, “I’ll call you back.”
Two seconds later, he rips open the door of one of the guest bedrooms and pins me in place with a hurt-filled glare. He’s naked from the waist up. Just like yesterday morning, nothing but a tiny towel is covering him. His hair is wet like he’s recently showered, and an almost empty bottle of top-shelf whiskey is clasped in his hand.
The pain in his eyes when he stares at me like I’m a mirage kills me more than anything, and so does the cruel words he spits out, “What the fuck are you doing here?” For how empty the bottle is in his hands, it shouldn’t splash as much liquid onto the floor as it does when he thrusts his hand to the door and yells, “Get the fuck out!”
“No.” My voice is weak and pathetic, but I’m still grateful it worked. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
Tears almost roll down my face when I step closer to him. “Then you can listen.”
He cuts off my steps with a roar. “No! The time to listen was before you played me for a fool. It was before you acted like you didn’t know who I was and before you fucking knew what he did to me.”
“I didn’t know who you were. I swear to God, I didn’t.”
“God?” He chuckles a painfilled laugh. “Of all the words in the world for you to use, you had to use that one.”
I’m not shocked he lost his faith.
I did as well when I found out what my grandfather had done.
“Nothing that happened to you was your or God’s fault. It was my grandfather’s—”
Jack cuts me off this time by throwing his bottle across the room. It shatters over an expensive painting before scattering the floor with shards of glass.
I realize his objective was to have me running for my life when my rooted feet see his moving at the speed of light. He races for me so fast the scent of his scrubbed-clean skin hits me long before the alcohol leeching from his pores. “Do you know what he did to me? Your grandfather. Do you know what he did to me?” he asks, an inch from my face.
My head bob knocks him back two steps.
I didn’t realize he had wanted me to lie until the devastation on his face grew from my admittance.
“So you know everything? Every detail? Every mark? Every sordid fucking thing he did to me?” He doesn’t give me the chance to answer, he weaves his fingers through my hair, his hold painful before he yanks down, forcing me onto my knees. “But I bet you didn’t know this because they all kept it a secret since it’s their shame, not mine.”
I inhale a sharp breath when he snaps his towel away from his body. His cock, although heavy and thick against his thigh, isn’t hard or standing to attention like it was when I kneeled before it previously. It isn’t even semi-erect.
I discover why when my stomach revolts at Jack’s slurred confession, “He called their cum his fountain of youth. That by them giving it to him, he’d live for eternity.” He unintentionally tugs on my hair firmer when he murmurs, “But I couldn’t give him that. I couldn’t give it to anyone because even though he told us what we were doing was holy, I knew it wasn’t.” I’d give anything to wrap my arms around him and hold him tight when he whispers, “But even after it stopped, it wouldn’t work with anyone. No matter what I did or how many tests I took, I couldn’t get hard…” He looks like he hates himself when he mutters, “… until I saw you. A descendant of the man who abused me for years. A woman who looks exactly like him. I got fucking hard over you.”