Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“What?” I asked, stiffening.
“Yeah, Avery wanted to drop by to check on Lore. Seems like she hasn’t really been keeping in touch with her family, so Avery offered to see how she was doing.”
Awful fucking timing on that.
I’d gotten a look at Lore’s sleeping face early that morning, the bruise taking on some yellow and green around the edges, making it look worse even as it started to get better. The lip, at least, looked mostly healed.
“Lore didn’t say anything?” Cage asked, head tipped to the side.
“Haven’t talked to her yet,” I admitted, watching as Cage’s brows drew together.
Confused.
It didn’t strike me until then how little I knew about Lore’s days. What she did. Who she talked to.
Apparently, not her family.
And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
I mean, I imagined shit had gotten strained about the wedding alliance. The wedding had been a powder keg of tension. So if she’d had some disagreements with her family leading up to the event, maybe they were struggling to get past that.
Still.
That was her family.
And despite having almost a whole lifetime of hard feelings toward the Costas, I didn’t like the idea of her having no contact with them.
Avery was probably the best person to have shown up, though, since she knew us better than the Costas did. She also hadn’t been with the Costa family long, so wouldn’t be so overprotective of Lore.
“Huh,” Cage said. “Figured maybe she would text you about it.”
Text me about it.
Maybe she would have.
If she had my number.
Which I’d never given her.
I didn’t have her number either.
If I wanted to get in touch with her, I’d have to do it through whichever guard was at the door.
That was… kind of fucked up.
“How’s Avery doing?” I asked, wanting to change the subject, not wanting my crew to think something was wrong with this marriage I’d insisted upon, despite a lot of fucking objections.
“Good. Good. Seems happy,” he said, then started to talk to someone who moved in at his side as, suddenly, Elian walked into the apartment, searching the crowd, finding me, and… glowering.
He fucking glowered at me.
The fuck?
I tossed back my drink and made my way in his direction as he looked in the oven, then the fridge.
What the hell was he looking for? Did he leave some food around and thought I ate it or some shit?
I moved around the island as he yanked open the cabinet with the garbage can, then pulled it out.
“You fuck,” he hissed, shaking his head.
“You talking to me?” I asked, brows raised.
Sure, we called each other names all the time. It was part of growing up together, despite the power imbalance that came into play when I took control of the family.
But there was something different in his tone as he said it.
Like he was pissed at me.
“Yeah, I’m fucking talking to you,” Elian said, gaze lifting, shooting fucking daggers at me.
“The fuck got into you?”
“What is everyone doing here?” he asked.
I glanced around, confused. “Hanging out.”
“I texted you earlier,” he said.
Yeah.
He had.
About coming home earlier.
Which, in fact, I did.
“I’m aware. And here I am.”
“And you invited the whole family.”
“Elian, the fuck, man? You got a problem, say it.”
“Yeah, I got a problem,” he said, suddenly yanking the garbage can out of the sliding track, and dropping it down at my feet.
“What’s that?” I asked, looking down at what looked like an entire garbage bag full of food.
“The dinner your wife made for you,” he snapped.
“What?” I asked, glancing back down at the food. Pasta, sauce, cheese, salad ingredients. “She cooked for me?” I asked, a strange, tugging sort of sensation in my chest at the idea.
“Yeah. And you couldn’t even fucking come home and eat it with her? The fuck is the matter with you?” he snarled, surprising me with his candor.
Clearly, the guy had bonded with my wife.
And he was furious at what he saw as my mistreatment of her.
“You take that girl, rip her away from everything and everyone she knows, lock her up in this apartment alone all day and most of the night. And you can’t even be here the one time she asks anything of you.”
That was… fair.
I couldn’t even fault him for what he said.
Lore asked me for absolutely nothing.
And I… gave her almost nothing too.
I think, in my mind, I figured she had it pretty good. A big apartment all to herself. No husband breathing down her neck, questioning what she was doing all the time. As much money as she wanted. Toe-curling orgasms.
But what if that wasn’t enough?
What if she wanted more?
And I was too fucking distracted to notice?
Clearly, Elian had seen this shit.
“Would it fucking kill you to treat her like you give a shit that she’s even alive?” Elian asked.
“I give a shit about her,” I snapped back, our voices starting to get louder.