Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Now,” he barked.
And despite all the things I wanted from him, namely to be claimed, I walked away.
Chapter Three
No one saw me walk to the hall. And if they did, they must’ve assumed I was going to my room in the compound, maybe to collect something I’d forgotten. It was still empty, even though I’d moved out of it and into Mom and Swiss’s after the wedding.
There were no more excuses now. My stepfather had bought a huge house, one with a primary bedroom a whole wing away from the rest of the house. The walls were thick, he informed me. Sound didn’t carry. He’d assured me of this with a grin while my mother had blushed and smacked him on the arm. She’d been glowing with happiness as he’d pulled her into his body and murmured something in her ear that made her blush even more.
My mom was still on a high from the wedding.
The day itself was amazing. Swiss had surprised my mother with the house he’d already shown me, having asked for my approval of. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Warm. Bathed in light. There was a garden, wild and bursting with color. The desert sprawled around them a gorgeous backdrop. An oasis for them both.
The night before the wedding and my birthday, we’d spent one last night in the little cottage I adored, Mom not knowing it was her last night. She didn’t know she was getting married the next day either. She thought I was staying because it was my birthday the next day. That was only part of the reason. When we woke up, Swiss gave me a leather jacket and a ride on his motorcycle. Mom gave me a necklace I planned to wear daily.
The burn remained at the back of my throat. Memories of past birthdays. Ones where Mom’s smile was genuine but tight. There were no leather jackets. No motorcycle rides in pajamas. There were my father’s gifts. Expensive. Appropriate. Evidence that he only knew who he wanted me to be, not who I actually was.
But I still missed him.
I hated that. Hated the small part of myself that longed for a sign he cared. That he really wasn’t the complete monster it appeared he was.
Luckily, the day was not intended for such intrusive thoughts. The day was for my mother getting a new home. A new husband. A new beginning.
The entire club had shown up to celebrate her and Swiss. Elden was there too, of course. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. I was afraid my poker face was not that good. So I focused on Mom. On celebrating.
I’d been planning on seeing him once I got back to the club that night. But once I got there, he was nowhere to be found. By design, I guessed. He’d spoken about control, about claiming me the last time I saw him. When things were raw. When we couldn’t deny the chemistry between us. Now that there had been distance, he was probably thinking about the age gap. My connection to Swiss.
So I didn’t see him the night of the wedding.
Didn’t see him in the weeks after that, weeks that were a whirlwind of working at the coffee shop my mom had worked in previously, designing her restaurant, babysitting for Freya, Caroline and Macy. Immersing myself in my mother’s new life.
It should’ve felt odder, but I realized that my whole life, my mother didn’t fit as my father’s wife, even though she played the part expertly. Her clothes always fit perfectly, never a hair out of place, but it was the skin she wore around my father that didn’t fit her. The smile that was too wide, too forced, that didn’t meet her eyes. Even the way she’d moved was careful, purposeful.
With her and Swiss, it was different. She smiled with her whole face. With her whole body. She moved without thinking, naturally. He followed her with his eyes whenever she was in the room. He called her ‘Countess.’
We had Christmas morning, just the three of us. Again, I battled against the feeling of family, of warmth, happiness that came with the holiday. I wondered what my father was doing. What my grandparents were doing.
I figured the club did some kind of big Christmas thing, but my mom insisted it be just the three of us, watchful over me the whole day as if she sensed my unease. I didn’t show it. Wasn’t honest with her about my feelings.
The new year came and went with a huge New Year’s Eve party my mom and Swiss threw at the new house. I was helping her organize that, still working on the design for her restaurant while battling with my feelings about college. I was leaving a little earlier than I needed to, a week before my third semester actually started. It was something I’d scheduled before I even got back from France, and now I regretted it, wanting to stay longer now that I knew what life was like here.