Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Her eyes remained dead, like she’d barely listened to a word I said. “Is this conversation over? Because I would really love for you to walk out of here and never come back. You’re a fucking sociopath.”
“I say what I mean and mean what I say—”
“You’re a liar.” The life came back into her eyes, but it was swimming in a sea of hurt. “You made me feel special. You made me feel important. You made me feel like I really did deserve the world. And for a moment, I actually thought the perfect man could exist. But you slashed my tires in the rain so you could come to my rescue. You came to my gallery and pretended to be some broken soul who understood even the most disturbed piece of art, so you could understand me too. But it was all a bunch of bullshit.” Her eyes started to water, but only slightly. “The whole fucking time… And I was too blind to see it.”
“I didn’t know you were married to Bolton until the end.”
She blinked a couple times and cleared away the moisture.
“I didn’t know until I walked into that restaurant to kill him and saw you sitting there beside him, his arm around your chair, while you looked fucking miserable. And the only reason I didn’t kill him is because of you. He lives and breathes this very moment because of the guardian angel beside him. I didn’t know, Astrid. I didn’t use you. What we had was real, and it fucking pains me to see you back with him.”
Her eyes shifted back and forth slightly, her arms still tight, her mind working to cast judgment. When her eyes became lifeless once more, it seemed like she’d ruled in Bolton’s favor.
“I’m not lying.”
“Then why did you dump me?” Her voice held no spirit, like my answer would make no difference.
“Because…”
Her eyes were hard on my face, hitting me with her disappointment.
“Because…” Because I had to. “When I told you I had nothing to offer you, I meant it. But you have more choices than me and Bolton. You deserve someone better than both of us. Don’t settle, Astrid.”
“I’m tired.”
My eyes narrowed, unsure what those words referred to. Was she tired of this conversation? Was she tired of me?
“After I lost my mother, my father was all I had. But I wasn’t enough for him, and he chose to leave. I wasn’t enough for Bolton, and he chose to leave. And then I found you, seeing a fairy tale instead of a nightmare, and I thought…for a moment…that maybe this was what I was destined to find and I just had to survive to get here. But then you left like the others. Used me…and hurt me more than both of them combined.” She spoke with dead eyes again, like she truly was tired, almost too tired to speak. “Maybe it is settling. But I’m ready to settle. I’m ready to accept that life is not a fairy tale…but a nightmare instead.”
“You need a lift?” Octavio approached the table and looked down at my empty glass.
“No.”
His eyes shifted back and forth between mine as he looked me over. “You sure? Because you know I don’t mind, Theo.”
“Why do you think I need a ride?”
“Because you’re redder than a tomato.”
I grabbed the glass and took another drink. “I’m just pissed off.”
“I’ve seen you pissed off. Your face is whiter than snow.”
“I said I’m fine, Octavio,” I snapped. “Now, fuck off.”
He continued to watch me. “Call me if you change your mind.” He walked away and headed to the stairs.
I was the last person in the Underground. It was almost five in the morning. We’d dropped our product that evening and had to collect our tariffs. Everyone had left for the night, but I lingered like a bad cold—because I had nowhere to go.
My bedroom still smelled like her, even though that wasn’t possible. There was no evidence that she’d ever been there in the first place, but I smelled her perfume in the bathroom, smelled her scent in the sheets. My butler had removed her canvas and paints, but sometimes I would take a trip into the storage room to look at it, just to torture myself.
I wished I’d done things differently.
I didn’t have a lot of regrets. When I wanted something, I went for it without reservation. The biggest event in my life had been impulsive, and while it had scarred me for life with pain, it still wasn’t a regret.
It would have been a regret if I hadn’t done it.
But the way I handled Astrid…was riddled with rage and self-loathing.
I finished the rest of my scotch and left, taking the cavern stairway back to the surface level and emerging through the door in the kitchen. The place was spotless, ready to be wrecked again when it opened at lunchtime.