Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Anneke whirled to face him, crying out, “You left me first!”
Heads started to turn towards them, but she no longer cared. “You cheated on me.”
“Anneke—-”
“You made me beg.”
He started to reach for her. “Anneke, please—-”
“And after all that, you still left me.”
The pain of that night flared back into life inside of her, and all she could suddenly see was her past self, slumped down on his basement floor, her life crumbling around her—-
And he knew that.
And he still had left.
Self-loathing burned inside of Marcus as he watched the play of emotions on Anneke’s face. He knew – of course he goddamn knew – what she was thinking. Remembering. And when he heard her speak—-
“What did I do to you that was so terrible you h-had to destroy me—-” Her voice broke.
And so did his heart.
“It wasn’t you,” he said hoarsely. “And I know how it sounds like a fucking cliché, but it is the truth, bambina—-”
She flinched. “Don’t.” Her voice was tight with suppressed tears. “Just don’t call me that.”
“But you are that. You will always be that—-”
Lies.
All lies.
“It’s never going to happen again, Anneke.”
More lies. Oh God, why did he always have to lie?
“I love you—-”
A soft cry of pain escaped her.
And that was the greatest lie of all, and she could no longer bear it.
Anneke glanced wildly at the table—-
Coffee? No, that was too hot.
Vase? No, that might break his head.
So all that was left—-
Anneke grabbed the handful of sugar cubes from the crystal saucer and threw it at Marcus’ face, one after another.
It was stupid. It was ridiculous. It was everything that was not proper, nothing that practical Anneke de Konigh would be expected to do, but oh God, it killed her still.
And that the Italian billionaire remained immobile throughout it, letting her pellet him with sugar cubes of all things—-
His face devoid of emotion even as people around them started taking videos, one that would eventually spread all over the Internet and turn viral—-
But oh, his eyes—-
Those dark eyes that held hers even as she shot another table’s worth of sugar cubes at him—-
Those eyes were telling her it was okay.
She could do anything she wanted with him, and it was okay.
That was what killed her most of all, and the glass bowl in her hand slipped out of her hold. It crashed to the floor, and silence descended in the entire café at the loud, splintering sound.
He stepped forward, and she started to tremble.
“Anneke.” His voice was heartbreakingly gentle.
God oh God, he was killing her all over again.
“Stop.” Her voice was a tear-clogged whisper. “No more.”
Marcus swallowed hard. “Anneke—-”
She shook her head wildly. “Please.” The trembling of her body grew worse. “P-please. Whatever it is you’re planning – please, please stop. Please. Please. Please. Before you break my heart again – I’m begging you, please, please stop.”
Six
As the limousine rolled up the driveway, Anneke pulled out her gloves from her bag and began putting them on. It took longer than usual since her hands still hadn’t stopped shaking.
Winter had barely begun, but it was already colder than usual in St. Valentine, Contini’s very own ski haven. Glancing outside the window, Anneke wasn’t surprised to find on-site security already having its hands full, trying to keep the press out of the premises. None of the reporters seemed to even notice that snow had started to fall, much less care that the air could turn freezing cold any moment.
The chauffeur opened the door for her, and she thanked him without meeting the older man’s gaze. That he had seen her break down inside the car still shamed her. A de Konigh wasn’t supposed to be that weak. She owed it to her family to be stronger than that.
The family’s long-standing housekeeper and butler were waiting to greet her by the steps, and Anneke quickly summoned a smile for the two, not wanting them to worry about her. Willem de Konigh had trained these two, after all. Anneke would bet her life they knew what had gone down between her and Marcus Ravelli, could probably repeat their entire exchange verbatim if her eldest brother ever asked them to.
“Hallo, Mrs. Bakker, Bertrand.” She gestured vaguely at the throng of reporters that persisted on hanging outside the gates. “Sorry about that.”
“We’ve never let such things bother us,” the housekeeper dismissed, and the butler affirmed this with a regal nod.
About to step inside the chalet, Anneke hesitated. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that some of the reporters were beginning to feel the cold, rubbing their hands and shifting on their feet to keep themselves warm.
Anneke turned back to the housekeeper, asking uncertainly, “Perhaps we could give them hot chocolate?”
“You’re too nice,” Mrs. Bakker sniffed. “But if you insist.”
The butler shut the doors closed as soon as they stepped inside, and Anneke sighed in relief at the hallowed silence that welcomed them. Looking around, she could feel herself relaxing even more at the familiar sight of her surroundings. Opulent the twenty-foot chandelier may be and however grandiose the living room was – it was still home.