Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“They arrested some guy on a botched robbery attempt in Paris. In exchange for a lessor sentence, he told them…that he was hired to run a car off the road. To stage a murder and make it look like an accident…my murder.”
“Your wife––”
The words left my lips before I could stop them.
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Vera. That nobody knows.” He swallowed, his throat quivering as the emotion lodged in his throat.
“Let me in,” I pleaded.
He placed his head back in his hands––wouldn’t look at me. I continued to stroke his hair. The need to touch him, to connect, trumped everything else.
His voice was barely audible as he began. “India and I had been dating a year…it wasn’t serious. I met her at the charity concert U2 gave for my foundation. She traveled a lot for work. I was busy, too. I had only taken on managing the bank a year before, so it worked.” He paused and looked up at me. I held his gaze, silently encouraging him to go on. I couldn’t and wouldn’t push him. He would have to tell me willingly.
“Things were good between us for a while. I wasn’t looking for more…then she got pregnant.” My eyes widened. My heart stopped––at least, it felt that way. A baby. Sebastian’s baby. His gaze returned to the floor. He continued as I sat there reeling from his confession. “We got married…nobody knew she was pregnant, just us. She wasn’t that far along.”
I was suddenly falling, dropped from an airplane with no parachute.
“You loved her though?” Real, unadulterated jealousy burned through me. And not the superficial, frivolous type––the ugly, vicious kind. Of a dead woman that had been pregnant with his child.
He looked up and his distraught eyes turned soft and warm. “Yes, I loved her. But I wasn’t in love with her. You’re the only…” Shaking his head, he plunged back into despair. “If it wasn’t for the pregnancy we…we would’ve broken up.”
“Why do you say that?”
“India was a good person but…she was so needy. I was always running home to fix something or deal with her is one way or another. It was exhausting. Before the accident, it got worse. A lot worse,” he admitted dejectedly. “I guess I was pulling away. She could sense it.” Anxiety swamped him at the mere recollection of it. His nostrils flared, his breathing turned ragged. “Making scenes in public––embarrassing me.” He rubbed his face, pressed his fingers to his brow. “We were in the middle of a bad fight that day.” His voice broke. I stroked his back in encouragement, fighting my own tears and feeling powerless against the depth of his pain.
“Lucinda, that woman who lives in my building, told me…told me she saw a man coming out of the apartment, when I was away for business.” His chest rose and sank rapidly as he forced out the words. “I lost it when she didn’t deny it. I started shouting…I…I took my eyes off the road for a second––”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. I crawled onto his lap and held him, stroking his head, his back. Pushed beyond his ability to cope, he clung to me as if he could absorb my body into his. He buried his face in the curve of my neck and gripped me with a force that could have broken ribs.
“I’m sorry, darling. I’m so so sorry,” I whispered. I could feel the wetness on my skin, the soft tremble of his muscles as I kissed his throat and murmured words of love and comfort in his ear.
“This is why you tortured yourself with alcohol and pills? To numb the guilt? Torturing yourself won’t bring her back, or the baby. It could’ve easily been you in her place. You didn’t cause it. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my job to keep them safe,” he mumbled. I sat back and examined his face. His eyes were wild with anxiety, tears glistening on his thick lashes. “Someone is trying to kill me and…I…I can’t put you at risk. I’ll die if anything happens to you. I won’t survive it. I know I won’t.”
I needed to draw his attention away from where his thoughts were headed. Cradling his beloved face, I kissed him softly until he kissed me back. The taste of his sadness stayed with me. I held his tortured gaze when I spoke, “Nothing is going to happen to me. That’s what the security is for. I trust you with my life and you know what it takes for me to say that. You’re the most capable man I have ever met. I’ve never felt more loved or more protected. You won’t let anything happen to us.”
I watched the words sink in, grow roots. The lost look in his eyes slowly dissipated, and was replaced by a steely determination I was relieved to see. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, finding his bearings.