Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
No, she only saw the beauty in everything around her.
And that’s what humbled me.
I didn't have that thirst for life like she did. I’d nearly died five times by my count. But my girl? She lived in her own personal war zone, thinking she was going to die every single day of the horrible years that she was married to her ex. She never knew if this time would be the time that Sal would go too far. She lived knowing that one day he would kill her.
Still, to this day, she enjoyed life. How that could be possible, I didn’t know, but she did. And I was in awe of her for it.
“You ready to go?”
I grinned when a relieved smile lit her face.
We were at a company barbeque. I had to go seeing as I was the brother of the owners. It was an annual one we had every summer for the families, and it was at the club that the family owned—a club in which I also owned the majority of—but nobody knew that.
I’d kept it a secret, being quite content to be in the background. It wasn’t often that my brothers consulted me—not Dante seeing as he still wasn’t around—but when they did, it was normally about expanding this or that. I honestly didn’t care what they did. I was easy.
I was probably one of the least demanding men in the world. I was a joy to be around—my brothers told me that at least once a year when I freely paid the taxes on the company.
Though, I had a feeling that it was due to me paying the taxes and not because they actually thought I was a joy.
“How did you know?”
I frowned and brought myself back to the here and now. “How did I know what?”
“That I was ready to go.”
I snorted. “Maybe it’s the way you’re holding yourself with both arms wrapped tightly around you. Or maybe it’s the way when I go away for a second, I find you in the deepest darkest corner of the club.”
She grimaced. “This anxiety...it’s because Sal is a dick. He made me go to all of these police functions. And everyone thought I was just a bitch because I wouldn’t talk. But really it was because Sal told me if I talked to anyone when he wasn’t around—and I do mean anyone—that he’d beat the shit out of me when we got home. And me being the smart woman that I am, I didn’t. After the first time, anyway.”
I was almost afraid to ask.
“The first time?”
She looked pained.
“The first time I literally thought he was joking. Surely by talking to someone at one of these parties, he wouldn’t think that anything special was being said between us. Unfortunately, I’d made the mistake of talking to another man who was being nice and making small talk since we were seated at the same table. Sadly, it ended up being the chief of police. The top dog. The head honcho. I never knew how screwed I was until I got home. We hadn’t talked about anything in particular. The weather. The table decorations.” She started to pick at her cuticle. “I think he said something about Sal being a good cop…I don’t know. I must’ve frowned, shut down, or something because the next thing I knew, Sal was there. He said polite hellos to the man, then we went to the dance floor and never returned to the table that night.”
I waited for the other shoe to drop.
“I never suspected he was upset until we got home. The minute the door closed...he broke my arm.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Made me repeat, word for word, what I’d said to the guy. Then, when I started vomiting due to the pain, he kicked me in the stomach like that would help.” Her laugh was anything but happy. “I hate him so much.”
I folded my arms around her and picked her up, turning us so that her back was now to the wall and mine was to the rest of the club.
It’d been decided not to close the club down while we were having this party, but the bouncer at the door was under strict instructions to only allow people in that we knew and wouldn’t start any shit with our families here…sans kids.
Though, the kids were all upstairs in my office with a babysitter—my mother.
My mother, whom Lark still hadn’t met yet, but I knew she wanted to.
“Tell me what’s going through your head,” I ordered.
Her eyes met mine, and the only thing enabling her to see was the disco light that periodically shined over our faces at random.
“I’m scared he’s going to find me and take away my happy.”
Those words were enough to bring me to my knees.