Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“What crawled up your—”
My words were cut off when his fist slammed into my face.
“She’s my sister-in-law, asshole. That puts her under my protection.”
Oh, fuck this shit. I was not twelve anymore. He wouldn’t get away with a cheap shot.
I got to my feet, rubbing my jaw where he had hit me, and then I swung back. He dodged the punch to his jaw but didn’t see the hook coming for his ribs. He made a grunting sound, but before I could swing again, he lunged at me and both of us went crashing to the ground.
We grappled on the floor, both blocking and throwing punches.
“She isn’t yours to fuck with,” he growled.
“I claimed her. That makes her mine.” I kicked out my feet, connecting with his thighs and shoving him off of me so I could get to my feet. He ran at me again, but this time I was ready. I met him head-on.
“Boys, stop,” my father boomed, and we both ignored him.
I landed another punch to his gut, aiming just to the side and up so I caught the underside of his ribs. He doubled over in pain, and I shoved him off of me.
It was a cheap shot I had learned my first year of seminary school in a brawl. Father may have thought Rome was a better option than prison, and maybe he was right, but there were more similarities than you would think.
Before Luc could right himself and swing again, Father stepped in between us.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“You should ask him,” Luc barked out. “Ask him why Rose keeps painting pictures of him, very inappropriate pictures of him. He’s been messing with the youngest Astrid. My sister-in-law. Amelia is beside herself. We don’t do shit like this to family!”
His voice got louder and louder with every word. I almost felt bad until that last sentence.
“What the fuck would you know about what we do or don’t do for family? Where was this rage when I was sent to seminary school? Where was this anger in my defense? I’m your brother.”
“She was innocent!” he screamed.
She wasn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Between the bullshit you’re pulling with her mother and whatever you’re doing to her, she had to run away by herself to the ski chalet. She couldn’t even talk to Amelia about this. They talk about everything. That poor girl is up there by herself because you—”
I didn’t hear the rest of what he said. It wasn’t important. I knew where my angel was, and I needed to know that she was okay.
If she ran, I needed to know that it wasn’t because of me, it was because of her mother. And if it was because of me, well then maybe I needed to be giving her a little more carrot and a little less stick. I could fix that.
Either way, I needed to see her.
CHAPTER 25
ROSE
It happened again. No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough. He kept showing up.
I threw my brush to the side in frustration. Not even caring that paint splattered on the cobblestone patio. I just stared in disappointment and disgust as I sat back on the stool, pulling the warm blanket closer around my body.
The garden in front of me was serenely beautiful, in transition from fall to winter. The November air had a sharp chill to it, but that wasn’t what had me feeling cold and empty.
I had tried to capture the last bits of today’s daylight in a landscape. The garden itself was absolutely lovely in the rays of the sun disappearing over the horizon. I loved how the shadows crept ever closer to me and gave the most amazing complexity to the landscape. That was what I was trying in vain to capture on my canvas with my oil paints.
Instead, each of the long lines of the trees in the distance, the slopes of the neighboring mountain peaks, and even the ridges of the now barren hedge maze seemed to mimic the lines of Father Manwarring’s body.
Thomas, I internally corrected.
It had taken several days of isolation and drinking for me to realize that he may have been ordained, but he was just a man. If I called him by his first name, he didn’t seem as intimidating, as powerful. Even though it felt wrong, I clung to that first name. It helped me see him for what he really was, and it was supposed to help me get over him.
Which was something I definitely needed to do.
Especially after Amelia found out. Earlier I was on a video call with her and she saw a painting I had done of Thomas, of his bare back from the first night I met him. I hadn’t meant to show it to her. She saw it and at first, she thought it was Raul. Then she realized that the figure I had painted had broader shoulders. He didn’t have Raul’s blond locks. Or his fair skin.