Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“Ha.” She scoffs, but says after a beat, “Sweet peas.”
“Sweet peas?” I ask with surprise. It’s a cheap, humble flower, not the roses or lilies destined for princesses.
“They smell nice.”
Come to think of it, I’ve never smelled one. In my line of business, there’s no time to stop and enjoy the delicate beauties of life. I don’t have time to chitchat with her either, not with the mountain of work that waits at the office, but I can’t tear myself away just yet.
“Is that a yes, then?” she asks. “I can go outside?”
“I already told you, you can wander freely in the house and garden.” I add in a warning tone, “The basement, however, is off limits.”
She blinks and looks away. She’s still embarrassed about yesterday.
The silence that follows is neither amiable nor hostile. Last night was a turning point of sorts for Evie and me. Our anger burnt out and what’s left are the ashes. I offered her a white flag. She accepted, thereby reciprocating.
It’s a hell of a lot less exhausting than our passive-aggressive battles. How long will it last? When I’ve executed my plan, she may hate me forever. That’s why I make the most of now. I need to win her over while she’ll let me.
I look at her feet. “How are the injuries?”
“Much better,” she says.
“Take your medicine.”
With nothing left to say, I don’t have an excuse to linger longer. I make to turn, but my gaze falls on her hand that rests at her side, noting the nails that came off in her fight.
Reaching for her hand, I say, “Let me see.”
Awkwardly, she hides her hands behind her back.
I reach around her, taking her wrist. Our gazes lock as my hip presses against her body. The curve of her breast brushes my chest. We both still at the inappropriate closeness. It’s too intimate for enemies, yet exactly what I want. Wrong but somehow perfect.
She resists when I tug gently, but I insist. I pull her hand from behind her back and take her fingers in mine. She looks away as I study the bumps and embossed lines running over her nails.
The deformity isn’t because of an illness. I know the result of physical trauma when I see it.
Fury ignites in my veins. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing.”
My order is harsh. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, she meets my eyes.
“Who did this to you?” I ask.
She pulls her hand from my grasp. “Does it matter?”
Yes. How much, she has no idea. She lives under my roof. That makes her mine. No one hurts what belongs to me. I’ll kill that bastard. It doesn’t matter how long ago it happened. It happened.
I make an effort to soften my voice. “Tell me.”
“I had a strict education.”
Her father mistreated her. At the very least, he allowed it. I drop her hand. The knowledge burns like a cold fire in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, I want to off that thief for a different reason than revenge. I want to gut him and watch him die slowly, but death isn’t his fate. He can’t suffer if he’s six feet under. No. I remind myself of the words I told my brother mere minutes ago.
Keep the end goal in sight.
This isn’t about Evie. This about my family. My fucking family. I gnash my teeth. I’m allowing her to sidetrack me. She’s dangerous. Just how much, she has no idea. I’m starting to get an inkling.
“Roman?” she asks uncertainly when I turn on my heel and walk to the door.
The sound of my name on her lips stops me. Yeah. She already has too much power over me.
My voice is harder than what I intended. “What?”
“Did I do something?”
I face her. No. I did it all myself. I brought her here. It was my plan. “I’ll be back for lunch.”
A shutter drops in front of her eyes.
And there goes our brief period of make-believe peace.
Walking through the door, I slam it behind me.
There will be no more white flags waved in this house. From now on, the gloves come off.
CHAPTER 11
Christina
The banging of the front door announces the men’s departure. Once again, I have the big house to myself.
After eating my breakfast, I go downstairs in search of coffee. If I carry on like this, I’ll pick up weight. Bell won’t be pleased.
I have a second cup because I’m addicted to caffeine. It cuts the hunger. If I abstain for too long from drinking coffee, I get headaches.
With nothing left to do, I go through the fridge and find a leg of lamb. I could make a fire in the TV room and read one of the books on Roman’s shelf, but I won’t be able to relax. It’s better if I keep busy.
Taking green beans and cauliflower from the vegetable tray, I pack everything on the counter and set to work. Roman brought me soup last night. He could’ve exploited my weakness and made fun of my breakdown, but he didn’t. He could’ve punished me and pushed me for details, but he respected my wish not to discuss what had happened. I want to do something for him in return, nothing major that he can misinterpret, just a simple task that will make his life easier. Feeding him is a good compromise.