Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
He clenches his jaw. “You’re my wife.”
“Yes.” To my great misfortune. “In your book, that equals a possession.”
Irritation washes over his features. “You set the conditions for our marriage when you made your choices.”
“Choices?” I exclaim. “What choices?”
His voice turns heated. “When you chose to betray me not once but twice.”
“Do you mean when I tried to escape the marriage you forced me into?” I ask with sarcasm.
A cruel smile flirts with his lips as he says in a dark tone, “Do not fucking remind me about that. Not now. Not ever.”
“Shall we rather talk about the second time?” My voice climbs in volume. “About how I was stripped naked and probed in places no stranger should ever see because my husband is a fucking despicable criminal?”
Striking out, he wraps a hand around my neck. His eyes gleam with fury I shouldn’t provoke, but I’m beyond reason.
His words are measured. “Keep your voice down.”
I meet his gaze with defiance. “Why don’t you just say what you mean and tell me to shut the fuck up because what I think or feel doesn’t matter.”
His eyes tighten to slits as he increases the pressure of his fingers. I’m sure he’d love to snap my neck, and the scary part is that I can’t bring myself to give a shit.
A battle wars in his black eyes as he squeezes harder. His nostrils flare and his jaw bunches even as he unlocks his fingers one by one from around my throat while I quietly challenge him. Challenge him to do what? To end this now? To strangle the life out of me? To admit the truth? To tell me in words what I already know just so I can punish myself more? I made myself vulnerable by apologizing for my family’s mistakes to my dad’s killer no less, and for what? For this. For him to remind me that he’s still a devil.
“Say it, Mr. Russo.” I’m taunting him, pushing us toward an abyss. I want to break something I can’t name. I want to sever the sole but powerful tie that binds us—our hatred. Instinctively, I know there’s no other way I can move on. “At least be man enough to be honest about what you want.”
He goes quiet. The anger washes away. A moment of silence stretches into a minute, and still he doesn’t say a word. Finally, he turns around and walks to the door, letting his actions speak for him instead.
Fuck, and how brilliantly their meaning hurts.
It’s what I wanted, to squash any common ground we could’ve dredged up between us, but I can’t help the tears that slip free and roll over my cheeks. My only consolation is that he’s not looking at me. He doesn’t deserve to see my destruction. I suppose destroying me has always been his end goal. It’s the reason he married me. And what an outstanding job he did.
Wrapping his big hand around the door handle, he pauses with his back to me. “The reason I came is to tell you that Sophie is going to school tomorrow. She’s going home with me.”
As if my suffering isn’t already enough, the announcement rips the world from under my feet.
His tone is strangely sympathetic. “It’s better like this. I don’t want a repeat of what happened this week. You shouldn’t have had to deal with a sickness that could’ve easily turned for the worse.”
I can’t say I didn’t know it was coming, but the pain twists deeper, knotting itself into my soul. It’s only made worse by the insight that hits me. That’s why he brought the diamonds. He didn’t offer me jewelry to apologize for his callous actions. He brought bling to soften the blow of ripping Sophie away just when I got used to having her in my life. It’s a sad, pathetic gesture. If he possessed one ounce of emotional intelligence, he’d know nothing can fill the hole that Sophie’s absence will leave in my heart.
He pushes down the handle, preparing to leave.
Consumed by anger and grief, I strike out with words. I retaliate in the only way I can, biting out my spiteful statement. “I hope I never fall pregnant.”
He stills.
Even as I make the statement, I already regret it, because it’s the worst betrayal of all—betraying myself. I’ve always wanted to be a mother, just not so soon. Not like Mattie. And strangely, I suddenly understand what my sister felt and why she was willing to sacrifice her career for a man. For a family. Because it’s never been a sacrifice to her. Being a mother has always been more important. Ironically, it’s the ugly, dishonest words that give me clarity. I want to take them back, but it’s too late. I do want a child, but not now and not in Angelo’s world.