Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Firm hands claim my shoulders. “Of all the cock-ups I’ve made, I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”
“I just had a crash course on how to live without you, Vic,” I cut in, barely capable of holding back my impulse to love him unconditionally.
Through tragedy.
Through the friggen apocalypse.
Through anything but the death of our child.
A mirage of Victor’s stone-carved face appears before my tear-stained eyes, and I glance toward his feet. “I had said I would stay. Even after you slapped around Graham. Victor, you beat your brother.”
“I know right now you don’t feel strong enough, Luxury.” His palms sweep over my biceps. “But just give me a fraction of that cheeky girl I once knew. Get back in the bloody car. You don’t want to go upstairs with your father. You must stay with me. For the sake of us.”
“But all I keep thinking is this one thought: if I can’t have my baby, I’ll deprive myself of you.”
“Do that, Luxury. But just stay. I only ask one thing of you.” His haunted indigo eyes sweep up the building and back to me. “Stay, Luxury. With me.”
Last night, I made a choice that I pray I will not come to regret. I . . . stayed. We arrived at the Air B&B Burt secured, and even with the multilevel home, I consented to one more inch.
We slept in the same bed.
Neither of us spoke, slept, or allowed our bodies to follow the path that lovers do when together. Victor had his corner. I had mine. Sleep overcame him at first light, though it never confronted me.
As my bones scream in exhaustion, I won’t allow my thoughts to wander to Saudi Arabia. I’ve taken the new cellphone from the kitchen and slipped out of the home in Greenwich. From the corner, I called the same driver who brought us here and returned to the home I shared with my father. I’m here for my yellow-polka dot pajamas. Yes, I know that might sound like a trivial necessity. But I want them. I head into the rickety elevator, allowing my body to be jostled about during its ascent.
Upon exiting, I realize I don't have a key. Or any necessary things that would be in a purse. I have nothing at all.
I ring the doorbell. Shock fans across my face when Brick answers. I'd all but forgotten that Victor hired the ex-Navy SEALs months ago to keep my father safe. Hell, I told Victor to let the old man find his way home. That meant Jonah was in charge of fending for himself if Charles or anyone else came around.
“Hello, Luxury.” The husky bodyguard drifts to the side as I step in.
Clutching a mug of joe, Dad turns around from his position on his lazy boy. The shock on his freckle-sprayed face implies he thought he never would see me again. It seems a lifetime since I confronted Dad at Victor’s Arlington home.
“Lux . . .”
“Hello, Jonah. I won’t be long,” I retort, an edge in my voice that I’ve acquired over the past week.
My short father stands, searching me for scars as I start for the stairs.
“I thought you'd never come back. That man—”
Authority rides my tone. “I’m here for a few things. Unless you’ve thrown out my stuff. Either way, leave Vic out of this.”
“This is my hou—”
“Speaking of which. He didn’t come into his sitting room and argue with you over your lies. As I recall, while we were discussing Momma’s journal, Vic only made his presence known toward the end of our discussion. Remember?”
Jonah grows taller. “Yes, he threatened me, Luxury. That man threatened your father.”
“Sorry, that part’s a little hazy. I still can’t fathom how you were ready to knock my head off for siding with my departed mother.”
Dad’s hands jam into the pockets of his unfashionable corduroys. “Well, if my assumptions are correct about Victor, why hasn’t another assistant come to retrieve your things? Never mind, you’re no longer any of my business. Go look for yourself, Lux. Your room is still untouched. And I am still a concerned father, Lux—”
“The only conversation I’d like to have with you is, did you have Momma murdered while you were screwing your assistant at the health convention? Let’s just agree that you’ve employed way more assistants than Victor. And you’ve enjoyed all their servicing, haven’t you?” I lash out.
And this, my God, is why I came.
I craved anarchy.
My horrible misadventures have erected a rough edge around my continence. One that I could either equate to emotional maturity or embracing the darkness that I allowed in my life the second I entangled myself with Victor Tudor.
Although misery loves company, I’ll be damned if I’m the bitch who brings Victor down to my level after he tried his best to save me. So, I have one person with whom I can toy.