Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Tears are falling hard and fast now, and I'm relieved when they block his view slightly. "Please, let me go. I'm obviously not what your family wants for you if that, what did you call it, a show, was anything to go by. The heartache is too much. All of this is too much. "
His fingers tighten, and he dips his thumb under my jaw to tilt my face up. "I'll never leave you alone. Now cut the shit and listen to what I'm telling you."
I blink through the tears and wait, happy I'm at least not sobbing in front of him.
"You are what I've chosen for myself, Bel. That's why I'm stuck on you."
"What does that mean?"
He presses his forehead to mine. “Nothing and everything, okay. I want you, but I will never be able to keep you. For now, you keep me from making worse choices than the bad ones I'm already committed to."
"How romantic," I mumble, turning my face so his lips can't touch mine. There's still a splotch of pink on his mouth from her lipstick, and I don't want it touching me.
"I'm telling you in every way I possibly can that I need you."
I tug my face away, and this time, he releases me. There's no way I can give him the last word here, though. I’m raging mad, but more than anything, I’m hurt. "You need me, huh? That's a long way from even fucking liking me, isn't it? You like my pussy, my body, the way I scream for you, right? But not me. You say I see you. Well, you know what? You haven't even bothered to try to see me, have you?" The words hurt to say, but they are the truth. "Now let me get back to work. Unlike you, I don't have a daddy to hand me everything I want whenever I want it.”
He blinks but takes a step back. Of course it’s not a big enough one to allow me to leave without touching him. I wiggle between him and the wall until I’m free, then I stalk down the hallway, putting as much distance between us as I can. Drew follows—because of fucking course he does—and I keep splitting my attention between his brooding frame and the door at the end of the hallway. Paying more attention to him leaves me distracted, and I walk right into a broad tuxedo-covered chest. Great. I freeze on impact because this man is definitely not Drew, but he looks like Drew, just older.
He steadies me gently, grabbing me by the forearms. "Whoa, miss. Are you alright?" His tone drips money, and I stare up at him. I don't know if it's better or worse to know what Drew will look like in another twenty or so years. Drew’s dad glances over my shoulder, and I turn to spot Drew rooted in place. He looks like a statue.
His father’s gaze ping-pongs between us. Then he scans my features and down my body. It’s not lecherous, but there’s an edge behind his genial mask. Something close to surprise? He covers it with a smile that makes me nervous.
"Well, this is interesting. Young lady, why don't you head back to the party? I'm sure you have work to do."
His words are solicitous, but there's an edge to his tone I can't place. I nod and step around the man, staring at the door in front of me. Drew hasn’t moved. His hands are still in his pockets as his dad crosses the space. Do I leave him? What a ludicrous question. The man is his father, after all. I have no reason to be concerned or be a part of whatever conversation they plan to have. Drew made it very clear to me many times over that his life is off-limits, and from the single look they exchanged with one another, this is a very personal matter.
The crowd's noise closes in around me, and I get back to work even though my heart aches inside my chest. I knew things would end this way. I called it from a million miles away, and somehow, I’m still shocked that we’re at this point. The only person I have to blame for a broken heart is myself.
CHAPTER 33
DREW
I step toward my father and meet his murderous glare. His lip is curled as he stares me down, and I know he's about to punch me. The look on his face is always the same. "Be careful, Father. If you hit me here, there's really no way to hide it from everyone who’s out there.”
He doesn’t care to listen and takes a small step forward, driving his fist into my gut. I should’ve anticipated the hit, but part of me thought maybe he wouldn’t do it. I bend in the middle, pain shooting up into my ribs and chest. Before I can maneuver myself out of his way he lands a cheap shot, slamming his knee into my stomach. A sharp, stabbing pain fills my chest, and I gasp for air. I fall to my knees, my vision going blurry, my stomach threatening to dispose of the whiskey I drank earlier. I suck a ragged breath into my lungs, and the pain in my side intensifies. "I think you broke a fucking rib."