Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
When he reaches me, he lifts me by the elbows until I’m standing in front of him.
“You, little girl, made a choice. A stupid, foolish choice, but a choice nonetheless.”
A lump rises in my throat at his admonition. I swallow hard. I have dreamt about being this close to him. I’ve even imagined what it would be like having him call me that, little girl. I’ve let my mind wander and dream, and in my fantasy world, it was so, so much nicer than this.
I’m humiliated and hurt to my very core.
I thought I loved this man, but I know better now. I loved a man who doesn’t exist. He isn’t the one standing here in front of me.
“You’re right,” I say, aware of the note of steel in my voice when I speak to him. “I made a mistake.”
What he doesn’t know is that my mistake was far more serious than stumbling onto an execution.
My mistake was falling in love with him.
But when I admit my error, for the first time tonight, his gaze softens, and he shakes his head. “I wish you hadn’t done that,” he says softly, right before his phone rings. Still holding my gaze, he answers it. Seeing him answer his phone reminds me of what I lost, and I swallow a lump in my throat. I wish he’d fired me. I would leave and never look back.
“Yeah.” He listens, then nods. “We’ll be waiting.” He sighs and turns to me. “You’ll come with me and listen while I explain to my men why I spared your life. If you do anything other than obey me fully, I promise you, you’ll regret it.” But there’s more resignation than threat in his tone. Still, I have no intention of disobeying.
He has several meeting places on the compound, and one is right here in this house. I’m thankful we don’t have to walk outside again. It’s lighter out now, but chilly in the morning, and it hurts to walk. He leads me to the library and has me sit on a chair directly beside him while we wait.
The men arrive, one at a time. I mull over what I should be doing right now, instead of what I am. I’d be showered and dressed by now, and in the kitchen making his breakfast. I’d brew his coffee—Italian roast with cream, no sugar—and pour him a cup when he came down to read the news. I’d cook him an omelet and toast and fetch him a glass of fresh orange juice. Just as he likes it.
But my thoughts are soon cut short when men begin to arrive. First, Nicolai and a few of his closest friends. I don’t look at them. They witnessed my humiliation, and it’s their fault I’m here.
Assholes.
Other men come in, but I keep my gaze trained away from them. Instead, I stare at my hands, at my long fingers and tapered nails, focusing in a scar in between my thumb and forefinger. I remember how I got that scar.
I’d taken a casserole out of the oven for Stefan, and placed it on the counter, not realizing the counter was freezing cold and wet. The casserole dish shattered, glass tearing into my hand. Stefan had just arrived from home and witnessed the injury.
I’ve played that memory over and over and over in my mind. How he took my hand in his and inspected the wound. How he washed it out with the most tender, vigilant care. How he lectured me sternly about kitchen safety and bandaged my injury himself. His concern gave me a sense of comfort unlike anything I’d ever felt before, so much so I even once contemplated injuring myself again just to get his attention.
When I think on this, I realize Stefan is not a bad man. He might do bad things from time to time, but he—No.
I stop my train of thought.
No.
I know who he is now. I was fooled before, thinking that he had any good in him at all. I can’t let myself go there again.
Soon, the room is filled with the men loyal to Stefan. It’s a smaller group than he commands, though, and I suspect he’s summoned his inner circle. Even so, I feel as if the walls are closing in, as if I’m about to be on trial and my fate already sealed, and when I remember how he punished me, a lump forms in my throat. I don’t want to be here in this state of ignominy and shame, but worse, scorned by the man I once thought I loved.
Stefan stands and points for me to stay seated where I am. Yeah, no worries there. If I could crawl under the floor, I would.
“Thank you for coming, brothers,” he says. I don’t look at him. I don’t want to see his vivid blue eyes trained on me. I can hardly bear to hear his voice. But when the door opens, I see a pair of black leather boots and dark brown ballet flats in my peripheral vision, I hazard a glance up just in time to see a man come into the room with a woman, followed by Rafael. It was hard enough sitting here in front of the brotherhood. But sitting here in front of a woman is far worse.