Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
While I love having him to myself, love watching trash TV with him, playing chess, or cooking disastrous meals, I’ve been feeling like a fraud lately.
Especially when he tells me about his family, friends, and past. Or when he buys me all those gifts as if I can’t afford them, as if my family isn’t actually much richer than his.
In the beginning, I didn’t care about his mental perception of me, but now I do. I don’t like that he has no idea about who I truly am.
But how will I broach the subject?
Gareth doesn’t exactly have the easiest personality to deal with, and while he’s been smiling more around me and he’s behaving himself—even trying to pamper me with gifts—he’ll go fucking ballistic at this.
If he wants to stab me, so be it.
And I mean it. If he wants to rip my heart out like he promised, I’ll just stand there and let him take it.
The phone vibrates in my hand and a jolt zaps from my arm straight to my chest when I see his name flashing on the screen.
Little Monster.
The cloud of suffocation eases, and the demons retreat to the shadows, one by one, their ugly forms immediately disappearing at his presence.
I’ve always felt a form of disturbing comfort with him, usually after I fuck the life out of him.
Last night, when he nursed me back to health when I got sick due to the side effects of Julian’s meds, I felt the same warmth I’m feeling as I look at his name.
Maybe I should ditch afternoon classes, call in sick or something. Because I’ll feel like I’m suffocating as soon as he hangs up.
It’s alarming at this point. I never felt so attuned to someone to the extent I wanted to chain them to me.
Not even with Sandra.
I pick up with, “Miss me already?”
There’s silence on the other side, harsh breaths, almost panting filling my ears.
“Gareth?”
No answer. More pants. Fractured breaths.
I stand up so fast that the rolling chair slams into the cabinet behind me. “Gareth? Say something. Is everything all right?”
“Did you lie to me?” His voice is so quiet, I can barely hear it.
“What?”
Surely Mom Jina wouldn’t have talked to him already. She said she’d give me time.
“Are you married?”
Fuck.
How did he know? My moms wouldn’t have said anything, right…?
Summoning my calmest tone, I say, “It’s not—”
“Yes or no,” he cuts me off, his voice turning deeper, more guttural.
“Yes.”
“Am I a side hole? Are you cheating on her with me?”
“No, fuck. She’s dead. She died two years ago.” I run a hand through my hair. “How did you know about the marriage?”
Who the fuck gave him this information? It’s surely not the PI.
“What was her name?” He completely ignores my question. His voice is calm, unperturbed, and it’s creeping me the fuck out.
Gareth is violent when he’s upset. If he’s this deadly calm, then it’s worse than being upset.
“Let’s meet and talk about this.” I grab my briefcase. “I’m coming home now.”
There’s a long slashing sound echoing from his side. “I asked for her name.”
“Cassandra,” I speak low as I rush through the students and professors, ignoring the blur of greetings. “What are you doing, Gareth? What’s the sound on your end?”
“Cassandra.” The slashing stops as he repeats the name in a gruff, almost choked voice. “Did she go by Cass? Cassie?”
“Sandra.” I hop into the car and put him on speaker, not wanting to leave him alone.
I’m actually scared he’ll do something. I don’t give a fuck if he hurts others, but himself…
My heart thunders in my chest so loudly, I don’t hear the car’s engine kicking into gear.
“Sandra,” he repeats it, his voice so monotone now, it’s lifeless, like that first time I met him. When he looked like a monster. “What did you call her during sex?”
“Jesus Christ, why is that important?”
“Was it baby?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t think you need to know that.”
“I do. Tell me.”
“Just her name, okay. Sandy or something.”
“Did you tell her she was beautiful, too?”
“Fuck, Gareth. You’re spiraling.” I pull out of the parking lot. “I’m on my way.”
“Did you?” The slashing starts again, louder, more unhinged.
“No, I didn’t.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“I don’t know how to answer that if you’re refusing to believe me.”
“Hmm. True. You’re a liar.”
“Listen, Gareth. I need you to tell me who passed on the info.”
“I had a PI on you. For months,” he confesses. “But she’s been lying to me, too. She told me about Isabelle, Lena, Hadil, and Sophia, but not Cassandra. The most important one. The woman you married and looked happy with while you were doing it. While holding her hand and walking down the aisle and kissing her. You were smiling the whole time.”
A video?
How the fuck did he get a video?
Grant? Fuck. If he knows Gareth exists, wouldn’t he come for him?