Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Chapter 6
DOMINIK
As I leave the cottage and walk toward the mansion to join the Devlin family for dinner, I feel on edge and downright irritated. Being away from my home for prolonged amounts of time tends to bring out the worst in me.
Just try not to kill anyone.
When I step into the mansion via the open French doors, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull the device out and open the message.
Evinka: I’ll be in Ireland the day after tomorrow. Need me to bring anything?
Dominik: Clothes and extra ammunition.
Evinka: Will do.
I tuck the phone back into my pocket, thinking about Evinka and how she’s become a force to be reckoned with in our world. She’s celibate because of the shit that went down in the orphanage and is only interested in money and power.
The fucker who raped her was the first person I killed. I was sixteen, and Evinka was only thirteen.
I hanged the bastard with his own bedding, making it look like a suicide. After that day, I started training with Evinka, making her strong so she could protect herself whenever I wasn’t around.
By the time I was twenty-five, and she was twenty-two, we had become an unbeatable team, conquering the world one weapon at a time. She’s only loyal to me and has put her life on the line to protect me more than once.
As I walk into the foyer, the Devlin sisters come down the stairs. Unable to ignore them, my eyes only touch on Ciara for a second, not even taking in her appearance before they settle on Grace.
She’s put on makeup, covering some of the bruises.
Jesus, the gold low-cut dress that fits her like a second skin accentuates every curve of her body.
Grace is taller than Ciara and has curves that seem to have skipped her younger sister.
I’m not one that’s easily affected by a woman’s body, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Grace as I take in her generous cleavage, supple hips, and plump ass other women would pay good money to have.
For the second time today, I shove the flicker of attraction away, and feeling like a grumpy bear, I follow the women to the dining room while fighting to keep my eyes from lowering to Grace’s sexy ass in front of me.
Just get this meal over and done with so you can return to the cottage.
When we enter the room where the aroma of grilled steak hangs in the air, Ian smiles at me. “Thank you for joining us.”
Not giving a shit about where places have been set on the table, I grab a chair at the farthest end, away from everyone, and take a seat.
The housekeeper flits around the table, bringing the silverware and glass of water to where I’m sitting.
Ian takes a seat at the head of the table while Ciara sits down on his left. Grace, on the other hand, picks up a knife and fork and comes to place it across from me.
“Grace,” Ian hisses.
“It’s fine,” I say, my eyes glued to the woman as she takes a seat.
While the housekeeper places a plate with steak, creamy mashed potatoes, and beans in front of each of us, I don’t break eye contact with Grace.
“Do you find the cottage to your liking?” Ian asks.
Not looking away from Grace, I mutter, “It will do for the time being.”
With a spark of fire in her eyes, she takes a sip of her water, then asks, “How many people have you killed, Mr. Varga?”
“Jesus, Grace,” Ian barks. “Can you at least try to be civil?”
I wave a hand at him to not interfere, then answer, “I stopped keeping count in my twenties.”
When I pick up my silverware, Grace does the same. We both take a bite of our food before she asks, “How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.”
The corner of her mouth lifts in a cynical smile, and she shakes her head. “You don’t think you’re a little too old to be marrying a twenty-six-year-old?”
The age difference would bother me if I were to take the marriage seriously.
“She’s over twenty-one,” I mutter, finding this interaction entertaining.
Giving me a condescending look, she mutters, “I think it’s safe to assume you have no moral values.”
The corner of my mouth lifts while I cut another piece of my steak. “Moral values have no place in our world.”
Grace stares at me for a moment before taking another sip of water. “What does your family think about the arranged marriage, or are they all the same as you?”
Again, I find myself being a little too forthcoming with this woman as I answer, “I grew up in an orphanage, and the only person I consider my family accepts everything I tell her without argument.” My teeth tug at my bottom lip as my eyes sharpen on her. “Unlike you.”