Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Watching him come undone was almost better than what I’d just felt. His face turned so hard, his jaw a thin line, the tendons in his neck so pronounced. The red blotches of arousal on his skin made his eyes appear brighter.
My hands cupped his cheeks as his face remained above mine. “Eyes.” I could look into their depths forever, appreciate his hollow soul for the beautiful thing it was. He gave a quiet moan as he released, his dark eyes focused on me with the same possession in my own gaze.
We came to a finish, both of our bodies relaxing now that the fun was over.
All night, I’d looked at this man, touched this man, showed off his diamonds as his muse. People came and went, and I behaved just the way he asked, but all I could think about was coming home to have this moment. It’d felt like we hadn’t been together in weeks, those angry fucks not counting.
“I’d like to try.” The same eyes that ripped into me the last few weeks looked brand-new, carrying a depth of sincerity he hardly ever showed. He was the man I remembered, the man I found so irresistible I fell for him. “If you want to.”
His actions were unforgivable, so disrespectful. His intentions toward me had never been genuine. It was all a lie. And he used those lies to humiliate me. But I lay there, unable to hold on to that rage much longer. The better part of me, the smarter part, told me it was another mistake that would end in heartbreak, but far more severe. He didn’t deserve another chance, not when he admitted his bitterness always got the best of him. But I nodded anyway, my fingers still cupping his handsome cheek. “I do.”
EIGHT
CAULDRON
I flicked the handle hard, the blade flying out and clicking into place. My wrist tilted left and right, watching the reflection shift across the metal like clouds over a lake. I tucked the blade back into the handle then did it again, the blade flying out until it locked into place again. The wooden handle was black and faded with age.
I’d had it since I was a boy.
My father gave one to each of us.
I wondered if Grave still had his.
The car came to a stop in front of the building. Lights illuminated every corner of the glorious city. Buildings that had been there for hundreds of years and had been restored stood tall and proud along the streets. A home that once belonged to a painter during the Renaissance was now a coffee shop.
I folded the knife and slipped it into my jacket before I left the vehicle.
The gates to the property were open, so I headed straight inside and entered the downstairs parlor.
A servant was there, hands behind his back as he stood in his tuxedo. He looked me over before he gave a nod.
Two men came forward and patted me down, searching for guns and other weapons. The pocketknife was stored inside the sleeve of my jacket, and they were too stupid to check there. Once the pat down had concluded, they nodded toward the stairs.
I took them to the second floor and entered a large parlor. The mantel over the fireplace was covered with sculptures and flowers. The painting on the wall depicted a ship sailing against the storm—and losing. A living room that could easily accommodate thirty people underneath the crystal chandeliers was impressive, but nothing a wealthy man hadn’t already seen.
He sat in one of the armchairs, his broken arm still in the sling.
The curtains were open to reveal the Eiffel Tower in the distance, and the fireplace had a gentle fire roasting the dry wood. Quiet pops exploded every few seconds, the wood bursting from the heat.
I took a seat across from him. “Nice place.” My arms relaxed over the armrests like I was the one running the show.
Grave gave me his stark stare, not the least bit amused.
“How’s the arm?”
“Broken.”
I gave a subtle shrug. “Could have been worse.”
“Could have been worse than your brother pushing you off a yacht?”
“Hey, I could have shot you. Hashtag Blessed, right?”
Now he really looked like he wanted to kill me. “The only reason I’ve left you untouched is because of my disability. But make no mistake, things will be different once this cast is off.”
“Disability? Grave, you aren’t in a wheelchair. How hard is it to point a gun and pull the trigger?”
“Right now, not easy enough.”
I couldn’t control the sly grin that came over my face. “Now what?”
“Camille made her choice. Honor it.”
“She’s had a change of heart since then.”
“I’ll believe that when I hear it from her mouth.”
“Well, that’s never going to happen because you aren’t getting anywhere near her.”
Grave was like me, hid most of his emotions beneath the surface like an iceberg. But right now, his thoughts were coming to the surface. “There’s no way in hell she’s that stupid. No way in hell she’s forgiven you for the shit you pulled.”