Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
So young.
So fucking clueless.
Women cloud your judgment.
Uncle Carlo only ever had my best interests at heart. He loved my mother. Thought he was saving her. He couldn’t save her. But he saved me. I’ve always hung on every word he said. So did Danny.
Until Rose.
Ding!
I blink as the doors slide open, but I don’t move. Twenty-one. I bite down on my back teeth and push off the wall, pacing down the corridor and entering the suite. I let the door close behind me, seeing a mound of white powder on the glass coffee table in front of the couches. A bottle of Scotch next to it. And, fuck my life, a pile of condoms.
I laugh under my breath and approach with caution, lighting up. Condoms. I pour a drink and neck it, topping it off immediately. I leave the mountain of cocaine untouched and drop to the couch.
My son.
I snort my disgust and snarl around the rim of my glass, taking more Scotch.
Fighting away the memories.
The girl.
Shit.
We were fourteen.
She was the kind of girl who gave it freely and every fourteen-year-old kid wanted a piece. I thought I was being sensible. Laughing under my breath, I remember the clumsy affair. My less than impressive dick that slipped around in the condom like a toothpick in a tunnel.
The girl disappeared a few months later.
No one asked why.
No one cared.
I close my eyes and see me. A kid. Then like some torturous, fucked-up nightmare, my face blends into Nolan’s. I’m slightly darker than he is. His mother was blonde.
He’s mine.
I don’t want to admit it, but I know he’s mine.
I yell and throw my glass across the room, caught between a conflicting feeling of calm and unhinged.
Calm because he’s mine and I accept that. Will make up for that.
Unhinged because with my son entering my life, someone else has to exit. I drop back against the couch and stare up and the ceiling. Why didn’t he tell me? Why the fuck didn’t he tell me?
He was scared of this. My reaction.
My cell rings. I ignore Allison’s call. It rings again. I ignore Beau’s call.
The door to the suite knocks.
I get up.
Answer.
The smile that greets me makes me want to slap it off her face.
Long, blonde hair. Blue eyes.
Not Pearl.
I throw five hundred bucks at her exposed chest and slam the door.
I can’t have Pearl. I’ll never accept that.
Doesn’t mean I have to be a cunt.
43
PEARL
* * *
I can’t lock myself away in my bedroom and hide. It would look odd. So I must endure peopling, sitting in the kitchen, pretending to work, while everyone comes and goes. He’s been gone for two nights. Everyone knows where he is, but no one is going to save him from himself. No one is intervening. Perhaps they’re giving him the space they think he needs to deal with this bombshell. With cocaine, women, and alcohol. Because that’s what Brad Black does. That’s what he turns to, even when Brad’s simply being Brad. But when he’s in crisis? How much worse will one of his binges be?
I know I’m an added layer of complication to this complete and utter clusterfuck in his life. It’s easy to eradicate me. Not so much his son.
I stare down at the keyboard of my laptop. At the screen with drawings and furniture stores.
“What are you doing there, Pearl?” Esther asks.
I look up, blank. What am I doing? “I’m . . .” I register her body. Her face. “Wow,” I breathe, taking in her glowing complexion and her body encased in a beautiful cherry-red wraparound dress, with gold piping on the edges and hem. “You look so lovely, Esther.”
She smiles, almost shyly, her hand at her ear putting an earring in. “Otto is taking me out.”
“I hope you enjoy.”
“I’m sure she will,” Rose says, sitting next to me at the island with Maggie in her arms and flipping me a wink that I’m sure should be discreet.
“Anyone heard from Brad?” Esther asks, brushing her hair back off her shoulders.
Rose shakes her head. “He’s not answering anyone’s calls.”
“We’ve got to give him time.” Esther pulls her handbag toward her and finds a lipstick. “Anyone checked in on Nolan?”
“He’s in his room. Quiet.”
Esther nods and applies. “I made him some pancakes and bacon. It’s in the fridge when he’s ready.” She comes to Rose and fusses over Maggie for a few moments. “Do you think you and my son could refrain from ripping out each other’s throats while I’m gone?”
“We’ll try,” Rose quips, her smile cheeky. “I’ve forgiven him, anyway.”
“For which bit?”
“All of it. The jet’s ready. Daniel’s packing for St. Lucia.”
“And you’re not?” Esther asks, her eyebrows arched. Rose shakes her head, and Esther exhales.
“You look beautiful, Mum,” Danny says, wandering in with a Scotch in his grasp. “Enjoy.” His nose scrunches and Rose obviously tries to hold back a grin.