Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
I looked away, my rage still pent-up with no avenue for release. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she asked me not to.”
“Why wouldn’t she want me to know?”
“Maybe because she has some pride?” he suggested. “Didn’t want you to know just how badly you hurt her. Can’t say I blame her. She’s always been proud.”
“She said I didn’t want her anymore because you moved on—and she heard it straight from my mouth. What’s she talking about?”
“Remember that night you stopped by?” he said. “You woke up on my couch?”
“I remember waking up…”
“You went on a long rant about her, and that’s what you said.”
I had no recollection of it. “And she heard every word?”
“Yes.”
“A little heads-up would have been nice.”
“You were so drunk, you probably wouldn’t have understood a word I said.”
“I don’t remember saying that, and if I did say it, I didn’t mean it.”
“I told her you were drunk, but she didn’t believe me. Said you sounded sober, but she couldn’t see you.”
Fuck, this was a nightmare.
“But in the end, what does it really matter?” he asked. “You’re done.”
If we were done, why did it hurt so much? “Is Camille working as a whore again?”
“I have no idea, Cauldron. I got her a job at an art gallery, but I guess she didn’t take it.”
I needed to know. Was this guy a client—or someone she actually cared for?
“Why didn’t you ask her?”
“Because she hates me,” I said. “And Bartholomew put a knife to my throat.”
“Then I guess that means you didn’t deal with Roan.”
“No.”
He didn’t seem angry about it.
“He and Bartholomew know each other.”
“That makes sense since Bartholomew is the biggest dealer in France.”
I stepped away, sheer pain consuming my body. “I can’t believe she’s fucking a drug lord.”
“I sell organs on the black market, so it’s not much of a stretch.” Grave took a seat on the couch and uncorked the decanter before he poured himself a glass.
I dropped into the armchair and yanked my tie until it came free.
He poured me a glass and slid it across the table toward me.
I was too depressed to drink—a new low for me. “I need to know if she’s working again.”
“What does it matter, Cauldron?” He took a drink then leaned back into the couch.
“All she wanted was to start over, find a nice guy, settle down. She had it… But then she went back…because of me.” I knew it was because of me. She’d forfeited her chance at happiness because she didn’t believe in happiness anymore.
“You don’t know that. Maybe she bumped into Bartholomew and they hit it off.”
He was tall and handsome. Had features as sharp as glass. Had as much money as I did. The ultimate competition. “I need to know.”
“Again, what does it matter?”
“It matters because…” I looked at the floor, unable to get the words out because I wasn’t sure what those words were. “I fucked up. I fucked up, and I have to make it right.”
The look he gave me was one of pure loathing. “Please tell me you aren’t serious.”
I held that stare as long as I could before I looked away.
“I warned you. I fucking warned you. Now it’s too late.”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear it.
“If Bartholomew is a client, she’s stuck. So it’s not like she can get out of it at this point, even if she wanted to. And if they’re in a real relationship, she’s also stuck, because I doubt Bartholomew would let her walk away without a fight.”
Fuck, man. “He seemed to know exactly who I was…”
“That means she told him you broke her heart. That means pillow talk. And that means what they have is real. I’m sorry, Cauldron. Looks like you’re too late.”
I bowed my head, my fingers pushing up the side of my face as I gave a heavy sigh.
“Elise and I had our problems. She walked out on me.”
My eyes stayed on the floor as I listened.
“It only took me a couple days to get off my ass and get her back.”
I raised my head fully and looked at him.
“I told you not to wait too long.”
I was outside her apartment again, but this time, I didn’t intend to stay in the car. As far as I could tell, she was alone. The lights were on throughout the house, and I occasionally saw a single silhouette pass across the curtains.
I made my move and headed to her front door. I grabbed the handle and intended to walk inside like I owned the place, but I steadied myself when reality kicked in. My fist moved to the door instead, and I knocked.
I heard her footsteps. Noticed the shadow behind the peephole. Knew she stared right at my face with annoyance in her heart. Ignoring me wasn’t an option because I knew she was home.