Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Apparently, he was right, as their sounds quickly become the sound of one thing, and as she moans his name, I turn and walk away… leaving the rings in their bag on her apartment doorknob.
It wasn’t anger. The betrayal did something much worse to me. My friend, one of my best friends and the woman I loved. Fucking hell.
The memory sears through me, making my teeth clench. He was my friend, but he betrayed me. It wasn’t until later that I found out just how much he was stabbing me in the back in the business world as well. Deals that could have lifted me out of the grind even faster, that could have made me his equal, were silently sabotaged.
We had it out on that.
“You betrayed me,” I hiss as Evan and I sit in the lounge, the curving booth and the round table between us preventing me from reaching out and choking the life out of him. That was my idea, not his. I’m not going to go to jail for murder because of this asshole. I just need some questions answered. “Why?”
He scoffs, ignoring my question. “You should be thanking me,” he says, looking out over the bar and virtually dismissing me.
I lean forward and hiss, “For fucking my fiancée?”
He cuts cold eyes my way. “You should be thanking me for showing you exactly who and what she is before you wasted any more of your time on a meaningless fuck.”
I change my mind. A life sentence would worth it to feel his heart stop in my bare hand. As though he can sense that I’m on the edge, considering jumping off, his eyes flare with excitement. He wants me to attack him and is virtually salivating for it to happen.
That alone is enough to give me pause. If he wants me to act on my rage, it’s definitely not the right play. I’ll never give him anything he wants again.
Seeing me tamp my emotions down, getting them under control, he smirks. “If you must know, she was all too keen to suck my dick. Bit of a family perk, you know.”
He wears his last name like a protective cape. One day, I’ll catch him without it and destroy him. Unfortunately, that day is not today.
I throw my vodka back in one swallow, needing the numbness. It’s the last time I’ll ever touch this particular drink, since he was the one who suggested that ‘real players’ drink vodka. From today onward, I’m going to be a whiskey man, or maybe rum.
Evan chuckles and sips his vodka soda before slamming his glass to the table. “Fine, you want the whole thing? First off, I don’t owe a street hustler like you a fucking thing. And that’s what you are, Sharpe. Sure, you’re making some money. Enough to lift you up a few tax brackets above the poverty line. And someday, you’ll find some bovine-faced bitch who’ll marry you. She’ll pop out a few kids, grow a fat ass, and you’ll get to play with her flabby tits once a week if you’re lucky. Or hell, maybe you’ll be the even stupider type and keep chasing the dragon until you find yourself a plastic surgery-loving gold digger who’ll drain your dick and your bank account dry. But in the meantime, you’ll make money. Maybe even a decent amount. You might even be able to retire someday to some little retirement community in some dusty ass state, where you’ll be able to eat your chocolate pudding and slowly piss yourself while watching The Price Is Right. But the truth is, Sharpe, you could make a billion dollars… and you’ll still be chasing me, and people like me. So whatever I do, I don’t owe you an explanation. I owe you nothing because you are nothing in this world.”
“I’m going to ruin you,” I vow. “Not today, but one day.”
Evan chuckles, not considering me a threat for even a moment. “Face it, you’re trash, man. Get out of my game.”
The words haunted me, but in some ways, I have to thank Evan Faulkner. I thought I was driven before his betrayal. But he pushed me further. He ‘Sharpe’ned me, if I’m allowed to have a few bad puns about the most searing trauma of my life. Trauma, but from that trauma came growth.
Without his stabbing me in the back, I would not be in the position I am today. Without the cold-hearted lessons he taught me, I never would have been able to become the powerful man I am today. Even if I haven’t adopted his methods, he opened my eyes to what the rest of the Financial District was like.
Not that I could ever forgive the bastard. The one thing I truly, truly regret in my life is not wrapping my fingers around that son of a bitch’s neck when I had the opportunity.