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)
And then, did he dump me once he knew my relationship was irrevocably destroyed?
Did I ever mean anything to him?
I returned to my empty apartment with a couple boxes of my things. Some of my clothes and jewelry. A couple keepsakes from my parents. Bolton let me take what I wanted. Even helped me load the car. He didn’t have a fight in him, like he sensed how broken I was.
I left everything by the door then sat on the couch alone, listening to the rain pelt the windows behind me. My heart was a tundra of snow, cold and dead. My husband wanted to sleep with other people, and the man who’d wormed his way into my heart had done it with mal intent. It was all just a game to him, and I’d fallen right into his trap. I’d opened my heart to him, but what he’d really wanted was for me to open my legs.
Open my legs so he could claim my land in his name, so my husband could see it.
I felt so stupid. So fucking stupid.
The tears built up behind my eyes and started to fall, looking just like the raindrops on the windowpanes. I cried, and listening to myself cry made me hate myself more. I hated Bolton for the way he’d hurt me, but now, he looked like a saint compared to Theo. Bolton was honest with me. He could have fucked around behind my back and I never would have known, but he’d had the integrity to come to me directly. Theo was a manipulative mastermind. Used me as a pawn in his game of revenge.
And I fell for it.
I never take a woman to dinner—except for you.
If I wanted you gone, I’d tell you.
Stay. Can you stay?
Everything he said to me came back to me, and I cried harder.
2
THEO
I worked for a week straight.
Whenever I was off, I lifted or slept.
Nothing else.
Her voice was still in my head, the way she looked at me like I was her knight in shining armor. Despite the way I’d lied so effortlessly, just like I did when I played poker with the guys. I had a crap hand, but I lied until I won the pot.
I felt like shit for lying to her, but if she knew the circumstances, she would pardon me.
And if she knew why I was emotionally unavailable, she wouldn’t want to get involved with me anyway.
I waited for Bolton to contact me so he could uphold his end of the deal, and when he didn’t, I took matters into my own hands. The location of the Brotherhood was an open secret. In an old city like Florence, there were only so many places to hide. Territories were sectioned off by different criminal organizations. All you had to do was ask around until you found what you wanted.
So I headed to the Brotherhood late one night, an underground bar with topless waitresses and vacant rooms with dirty mattresses. The guys patted me down before I walked inside, but they didn’t recognize me, just assumed I belonged there since I looked the part. But once I was in the bar, several of the guys stared at me, making the connection in just a couple seconds.
One of the guys left his spot at the table, blond hair slicked back with too much gel. Covered in tattoos that went all the way up his face like he was some kind of clown, he dropped across from me, his pint in hand. “You’ve got a lot of balls coming here alone.”
“You’ve got a lot of balls fucking up your face like that.”
A flash of anger moved into his eyes, his ego cracked like a fresh egg. “Is this a death by cop stunt?”
“I want to talk to Bolton.”
“He’s not here.”
“Then should I visit him at home?” It wasn’t hard for me to figure out where he lived. Once I’d learned Astrid was his wife, I tailed her home. He did a great job covering his tracks and being invisible, but his woman had been the one to give him away.
My woman…for a night.
The man drank his beer before he left the booth and walked away.
I waited, arms crossed over my chest, and when the waitress came over, I ordered a beer. I knew how this worked. The little ants would return to the hill and ask their queen for orders. I’d walked into the Brotherhood alone, so I was outnumbered and outgunned. But they wouldn’t cross me, not when they suspected I had some kind of assurance up my sleeve.
It took minutes for Ink Face to come back, his already ugly features made worse by the unnecessary tattoos. Prostitutes probably rejected his money left and right. With me, they did it for free much of the time.