Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Cash is younger than Tobias and at least looks a little less brutal. Not that I want to find out how brutal he truly is.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and drink a sip, then force myself to eat the breakfast laid out for me even though my throat is tight and my stomach in knots. I’ll see my uncle today. It’s something, even considering what he did. But I know it’ll all just confirm what Damian’s told me.
When my twenty minutes are up, Cash clears his throat. I stand to leave, anxious to get out of this new prison. I put on the same coat from last night, and we ride down the elevator in silence. The doorman, I think Harry was his name, takes his hat off to greet me. If he knew I was here against my will, would he do anything to help me? I doubt it.
I follow Cash to the waiting SUV. He opens the back door, and I climb up.
I know the city fairly well, so I pay attention as the driver, with Cash beside him in the passenger seat, maneuvers through traffic to take us to a building I’m familiar with. It’s the offices of my father’s lawyers.
He opens the back door, and when I exit the SUV, I don’t bother to wait for him to walk me into the building. I’ve been here a few times with my mom and dad, so I know the way.
Cash is two steps behind me, and although I hope the elevator doors close before he can climb on, of course they don’t. We ride up to the fourteenth floor where the law offices of Maher, Johnson, and Murphy are situated. The current Mr. Maher, the son of one of the founders who is now about seventy, I guess, is our attorney.
Once we arrive on the fourteenth floor, the receptionist who’s been there for at least my lifetime, greets me by name. I can see in her eyes, though, that something is amiss. Or maybe it’s the way she glances at my shadow—Cash—hulking closer than I like.
“Your uncle’s here, Cristina. They’re in Mr. Maher’s office.”
“Thank you,” I tell her and put my hand up to stop her when she gets to her feet to walk with us. “I know the way. It’s okay.”
I follow the exterior circle around the cubicles of assistants, passing the offices of the other lawyers until I get to Mr. Maher’s office. My steps slow naturally as I see them gathered through the glass wall, Mr. Maher behind his desk, my uncle seated in the chair across from his, his back to me. Damian standing against the far wall.
His are the eyes that capture and hold mine.
His arms are folded across his chest, face as impassive as ever. I can’t tell if he’s wearing the same suit as last night, but I can see from here he, too, hasn’t slept much though probably for different reasons than me.
I steel my spine and reach for the door which Cash does before me. He pushes it open, and both Mr. Maher and my uncle watch me enter.
I feel Damian’s gaze still on me, but I force myself not to look at him. Force myself to ignore the heat of his eyes as the memory of him behind me last night, his hands on me, in me, the look on his face as he humiliated me, all return with too much clarity.
“Cristina,” Mr. Maher says. He looks me over and smiles a warm smile. “It’s been too long, my dear, and it’s so good to see you.” He comes around the desk to take both of my hands in one of his.
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Maher.” It’s been years, and he’s aged.
My uncle clears his throat. He’s standing too.
Mr. Maher releases my hands and resumes his place behind the desk as I meet my uncle’s gaze.
“Uncle,” I say, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the disheveled hair, and the tie slightly off center. “How are you?”
He comes toward me and nods once. “I’m all right. How are you holding up?”
I see Damian in my periphery. He hasn’t moved. I’m not sure he’s taken his eyes off me for a second.
“I’m fine,” I say, forcing myself to stand a little taller. “How are Liam and Simona?”
“Liam took Simona to their mother’s,” he says through gritted teeth, casting an accusing glance over my shoulder before turning to me and schooling his features.
Liam had given me a drawing Simona had made with her and Sofia sitting together having tea and waiting for me to return. I snuck it into my bag, so I don’t lose it, but between last night and this morning, I haven’t had a chance to look at it again.
“Let’s get this done,” Damian says, finally stepping toward us. “Mr. Maher, if you can get through the particulars of where she’ll sign. We have a busy day.”