Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I stared until I grew sleepy and pulled a blanket over me. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but at some point, I did. And I woke up when I heard someone else in the house. My eyes opened, and I sat up, looking at the man who stood in the kitchen through my squinted eyes. He had dirty-blond hair and blue eyes, and the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt were pushed to his elbows. He opened the cabinet and pulled out a decanter of booze before he drank straight from the bottle.
He didn’t seem to notice I was there. “Hey.”
He finished his drink then released a quiet sigh. “Didn’t think you’d be awake.”
“I was worried.”
“Why?” He left the kitchen and joined me in the sitting room, taking the seat beside me. “It’s just rain, Astrid.”
“I know, but…I know you said you had something to do tonight.”
“I always have something to do.” I’d met him at a bar years ago, and we’d hit it off right away. We’d dated for a while, and then once we were serious, he laid a bombshell on me. He wasn’t an accountant—but a hit man. I’d broken it off because I was disturbed by what I’d learned, but he wouldn’t let me go, and then we got married shortly afterward. He never shared the details of his work explicitly, and when he left the house for days at a time, he didn’t give me an explanation. I met other men he worked with and understood it was a network rather than an independent job. But I didn’t know details because I didn’t want to know details.
It was better this way.
I didn’t want to know who he killed or why he killed them, but he told me they were always bad men who’d made enemies with their wrongdoing, that he wasn’t killing innocent people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I hoped that was the truth.
So, whenever he was gone, I always worried. He told me not to text or call, to wait for him to text or call me in case it put him in a compromised position. Those stretches of time when I didn’t hear from him were always the worst.
“How was the art thing?” he asked.
“It was fine.” I should tell him about the flat tire and that man who’d helped me, but for some reason, I didn’t.
“I’m going to shower then go to bed.” He left the couch and my side and walked off.
He used to grab me all the time, yank me into him and kiss me, but lately, he seemed disinterested in physical intimacy. He was always stressed or tired or distracted. “Is something wrong?”
He halted then slowly turned back to me. “It’s four in the morning, Astrid. It’s not okay for me to be tired?”
“That’s not what I said—”
“Why would something be wrong?” he demanded, his voice rising.
“There’s no reason—”
“You asked me for a reason. Did you not?” He didn’t raise his voice further, but it felt like he was screaming.
“You’ve just been gone a lot.”
“And you think right now, at four in the morning, is the time to discuss it?”
He managed to turn everything around on me, making me look like the bad guy. “It’s never a good time. You’re always busy.”
“You’re being clingy, Astrid. Really fucking clingy.”
“I’m being clingy?” I asked incredulously. “Because I want to see my husband more than a couple days a week? Because I’m tired of him disappearing for days without telling me if he’s okay? Because I want to discuss when we’re going to have a family, but you shut me out every time? I would much rather be clingy than what you are—neglectful.”
His arms remained by his sides, but he stared me down with a threatening gaze, like I wasn’t his wife, but one of the men he was hired to kill. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately. Work has been busy—”
“I don’t care what your reason is. It’s unacceptable.”
“You asked me to talk about it, and then when I speak, you interrupt me?” His voice rose a little louder. “You think that’s wise?”
“I’m just angry right now.”
“Well, I’m fucking angry too. I give you a life that women dream of. Diamonds, cars, yachts, villas in every beautiful region in this world—”
“I married you because I wanted you, not the shit you can buy me. And instead of finding that clingy, I would hope you’d find that romantic. Because you can get any woman you want who wants your money, but I actually want you for you.”
He stared me down, his breathing elevated.
“You’re gone so much, sometimes I’m afraid…I’m afraid I’m not the only one.”
“Only one what?” he barked.
“The only woman in your bed.”
“I fuck you when I come home, do I not? I fuck you like a goddamn sailor on leave.”