Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
He licked his lower lip, keeping a careful eye on me. “If you’re worried he’ll make a scene, don’t be. The crowd has been dispersed. The bartender is otherwise engaged. The girl’s fight has reached its end, and the boy is fuming. He knows he can’t strike her. Not here at least. Yet he’s plotting how to make her pay.” He chuckled. “You’re merely giving him revenge with a neat and tidy bow…along with a nice little payday. He’ll take the money, Henri. And when he does, you will take the girl.” He pointed into the blackness. “Take her to the back of the club. There’s a door. Knock four times and you’ll be let inside.”
Not giving me time to refuse, he stepped away. “Roland, come along. Let our new acquaintance prove he’s worthy of our friendship.”
Saluting me mockingly, he muttered, “Have fun, Henri. Remember. Buy the girl, bring her to me, and I promise you, your life will never be the same again.”
Chapter Four
…………………………….
Ily
HOW COULD HE SAY THAT about Krish? That I slept with my adoptive brother?
He knew why I was close to him. Why I doted on him. Without Krish, I wouldn’t have a family. Out of everyone in this world, Krish was the only one who’d earned my entire heart. Sure, my adoptive mother and father had all of it too, but Krish…he had all of it and far, far more.
“You’re sick for ever suggesting I would sleep with the one person I adore more than anything,” I hissed.
Sam rubbed his smarting cheek from where I’d slapped him. His voice was ugly as he sneered, “Adore more than anything, huh? Adore more than me, your boyfriend? The man you gave four years of your life to?” He laughed nastily. “Four years you’ve led me on, making me believe you’ll change. I did my best to bide my time for you to outgrow your stupid rocks and silly dreams, but you’ve just shown me what a lost cause you truly are. You’re an outsider in the very family you say you adore so much. My family could’ve offered you more than they ever could because they’re better in every way.” He bared his teeth. “You’ll regret this, Il. I bet you’re already regretting it. You just kissed the future we could’ve had together goodbye.”
Wow.
Steam came out of my ears. “You’re not better than me, Samuel Laris. You’re an absolute twat. And don’t you dare talk about my family that way!”
“What way? With truth?”
“They might not be stuck-up like your family, and they might have modest means because Father sends all his wealth back to India, but they’re good people. Kind and generous people. They’re so much better than you’re turning out to be.” I crossed my arms, hugging myself. The liquor I’d thrown back burned in my belly, making me nauseous. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. You’re a nasty, spoiled brat who—”
“I’m nasty?!” He threw his hands up. “You’re the bitch here, not me. You’re the one who broke up with me on my motherfucking birthday!”
Ordinarily, I would take the high road and leave.
Tonight, I wanted to get dirty. “I gave you a blowjob before I did. Doesn’t that make you happy?”
He loomed over me so fast, so threateningly, a tiny tendril of fear unravelled. “You call that a blowjob? A half-hearted lick and—”
“You came. Don’t pretend it didn’t feel good—”
“I’m horny. You’ve been denying me for weeks. Of course I came. But don’t think it was because of your ‘skills’ because it most certainly wasn’t. You want the truth, Illness—”
“I told you not to call me that—”
“You haven’t been able to please me in bed for months. Sticking my cock in any part of you has become a chore. Even a blow-up doll would be able to pleasure me better.”
“Good grief, Sam.” My cheeks blazed, and my heart—that was well and truly over him—panged with shame.
He watched me as if he wanted to wring my neck in front of hundreds of people—as if he genuinely hated me.
“Look.” I sighed, doing my best to cling to my courage instead of giving in to the prickles of worry. “I’m sorry, okay? It was my fault this went so sour. My fault—”
“Of course, it’s your bloody fault. I hope you end up realising just how much this is your fault.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you deserve a whole world of pain for what you’ve done to me. You’ve made me the laughingstock of this club, dragged me all the way to France to dump me, and most likely expect me to walk you back to the hotel, watch you pack your bags, and then escort you back home.”
“I don’t expect any—”
“Well, I’m not doing it, got it?” His voice raised with rage. “I’m done. You’re not welcome back at the hotel. Go to the train station and sleep there for all I care. Get back to England on your own. I never want to see you again.”