Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
She runs down the stairs, her sobs audible until the front door slams behind her. When I look around the door, Gabriel stands in the middle of the room, his eyes closed and his head turned up to the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” Magda says behind me, making me jump. “Eavesdropping?” “Laundry.” I lift the basket.
“Get on with it then.”
I get out of her way and load the washing machine, but I can’t stop thinking about Carly. In some regards she’s a brat, but I feel for her. I remember what is was like when my father told me who I’d marry and that I’d never be allowed to go out with other boys. At the time, it felt like my world had come to an end.
Later, when I wash the windows, I see Carly sitting outside by the pool, her cheeks streaked with tears. I pour a glass of lemonade and carry it outside.
Leaving it on the table next to her, I say, “I’m sorry you’re upset.”
She crosses her arms. “I’m sure you are.”
“He’s just being protective.”
“He’s a pain in the ass.”
My mom always paved the way for me with my dad. “Why don’t you ask your mom to speak to him?”
She snorts. “Like that will help. She’s ten times worse.”
“When is this big night?”
“Friday.”
“Maybe he’ll come around.”
“If that’s what you think, you don’t know my father.”
I stare down into her unhappy face, seeing myself at a younger age when I already knew I’d never have love, not the kind people marry for, anyway. Maybe it’s the futility of my life, of my own unhappy existence that makes me blurt out, “Do you want me to speak to him?”
She jerks her head up, her lips parted. “Will you?”
“I can’t guarantee he’ll listen, but I can try.”
She turns her face toward the pool, staring at the blue water with empty eyes. “I guess you’re my only shot. No one else will try.”
“All right. Now cheer up. Sulking gives you wrinkles.” A smile almost curves her lips.
* * *
Gabriel
I’m poring over the information Anton sent about Valentina––the general stuff that’s easy to come by––when the object of my research walks into my study.
“Excuse me, do you have a minute?”
Lowering the report, I scrutinize her. She looks pale. “Feeling better?”
“Yes.” She fixes her gaze on the carpet and shuffles her feet. “Thank you.”
She’s nervous. “What is it, Valentina?”
“Earlier on, back there,” she throws a thumb in a general direction, “I couldn’t help but overhear the argument.”
I lean back in my chair and narrow my gaze. “With Carly?”
“It’s none of my business, but––”
“Damn right, it’s not.” Carly is my daughter, and whatever issues I have as a father are private.
At my tone, her eyes grow large. I can practically see the fear bleeding into them. Making a conscious effort to soften my tone, I say, “Whatever you want to say, I’m sure you mean well, but your opinion is unwanted.” I turn my face to the computer screen, not dismissing her, but showing her she no longer has my undivided attention.
For a moment, she says nothing. I believe she’s going to bolt, but then she lifts her chin and looks down at me from her meager height.
“Gabriel.”
All I want is to throw her over the desk and fuck her, but in this, I have to show her her place.
“It’s sir when I’m not going down on you.”
Her cheeks turn pink, but she stands her ground, her gorgeous courage making me hot around my collar and hard in my pants.
“Sir, I promised Carly I’d speak to you. You can do to me whatever you want, listen or not listen, but I won’t break my promise.”
The chair scrapes over the floor as I push it back and get to my feet. “I won’t tell you again, keep your nose out of my business.”
The hem of her dress trembles––her knees must be shaking––but she doesn’t back down.
“You’re making a mistake.”
I round the desk and stop in front of her. “Am I, now?”
“You should let Carly decide who she wants to go out with.”
“You would know.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not a parent. Until you are, keep your opinion to yourself.”
She cranes her neck to look me in the eyes. “No, I’m not a parent, but I’ve been there. I know what it feels like.”
The angry part of me stills as I picture her as a young woman asking her father’s permission to go out on a date. From the report I just read, I know she was only thirteen when he died, way too young to date, but I’m curious.
“My father already decided who I was going to marry when I turned ten. It didn’t matter what I wanted or how I felt. My mother was already gathering a trousseau for the day I’d turn eighteen. My father passed away early, saving me from that fate, but if he’d still been alive, I would’ve been far, far away from here.”