Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Yeah. Anyone who knows Anya will know I’d never be her normal choice of a boyfriend, let alone a husband. I’m practiced at charming people, but Bertrand is too old and wise to let anyone pull the wool over his eyes.
“Actually, we met a while ago,” I say. “Anya wanted to keep it quiet until we were certain about being serious.”
“I see,” he says, but his inquisitive expression tells a different story. “Come in.”
We follow him through a security door to the back of the building. He leaves us in front of a private room and tells Anya with a meaningful tone to call if we need him.
“You can wait in the lounge,” Anya says.
Her words aren’t cold yet before I’ve opened the door and walked inside. A middle-aged woman sits in a chair next to the window, staring out at the garden.
Her mouth thins before she spares me a glance. “It’s about fucking time.”
She turns her face my way, and, not finding who she expected, her dull brown eyes grow wide. She looks nothing like Anya. The smile on her lips isn’t warm, and the light in her eyes isn’t soft. She’s quick to hide her reaction and equally fast to measure me with a gaze. She ends her evaluation on my handmade Italian shoes.
Anya scurries around me. “I brought a friend. This is Saverio. Saverio, this is my mom, Mary.”
A nasty, sly expression transforms Mary’s face. “Are you fucking her?”
“Mom,” Anya exclaims.
My smile is cold. “That’s none of your business.”
Mary looks around me, addressing her daughter. “He’s got money, this one. I can see it by his fancy fucking clothes. You should take your due, Anya, milk him while the only thing he’s interested in is between your legs, because when he grows tired of your cunt, he’ll throw you out on the street, and you won’t get another dime from his filthy rich fucking ass.”
“Oh my God.” Anya covers her face with her hands. “Why are you always doing this, Mom? Saverio, we should go.”
“Already?” Mary mocks. “Why, my little girl is ashamed of me. I pushed her through my vagina. Nearly died in the process too. You’d think she’d show a little more gratitude and respect for me.”
Anya stiffens. “You know, I’m growing tired of the same old tune. You nearly died giving birth to me only when it suits you. When it doesn’t, you’re quick to remind me what a ball and chain I am around your ankle.”
Mary lifts her chin. “Then why do you still come here?” She scowls. “You sure as hell don’t bring my booze or cigarettes, so what’s the point? Do you think I want to sit here and make fucking small talk with you?” Her laugh is nasty. “If you think I want to hear anything about your miserable life, you’re delusional.”
Anya balls her hands. “I come here because I’m the only one in the world you have. There’s nobody else who’ll take care of you. Sadly, Mom, I’m not doing it out of love. I’m doing it out of duty because I’ll never be like you.” Turning on her heel, she says, “Come, Saverio. I’m done here.” She stops at the door. “You won’t see me again, Mom, not until you behave like a civil person and at least pretend to respect me. I have other priorities to worry about now.”
Not waiting to see if I follow, Anya walks through the door.
“That’s right,” Mary calls after her. Raising her voice, she continues, “She’s going to have another man’s baby. Did she tell you that? Let’s see how much he wants to fuck you now.”
In two long strides, I’m in her space, gripping the armrests and putting our faces a hairbreadth apart.
Fear bleeds into her eyes.
Yeah.
A monster recognizes a monster.
“I have two things to say to you. One, another word from your mouth…” My grin is sinister. “And I’m going to kill you.”
She flattens herself against the back of the chair, not so keen on kicking the bucket now. Not like all those times she tried to kill not only herself but also her daughter. Like all bullies, she’s a coward when confronted by someone bigger and stronger.
“Two, if you swear one more time in Anya’s presence,” I say, “I will cut out your tongue.”
Her face transforms with horror.
“If you do ever see your daughter again and you’re not the perfect example of the Virgin Mary herself with impeccable manners and filled with so much love that it shines like angelic light from your asshole, I will cut off your fingers one by one, mince them, and make you eat every morsel of that steak tartare. If you do see your daughter again, you better have a halo hanging over your head.”
She makes a choking sound.
“I may come for you in the night.” I straighten. “So don’t sleep too deeply.”