Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
That’s not quite true, but I refuse to pay him that compliment.
“So you set Tod up.”
“Tod was stupid enough to do the rest himself. Then you walked into my office and doomed yourself.”
“I feel like such an idiot. You’ve done that to me.”
“I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
“It’s strange how intent doesn’t make the pain any less. You need to talk to your lawyer. He’s a cockhead. But I think he might also be a cokehead.” I blow out a breath. “I went to see him about Daisy. You’ll have to ask her to explain it all to you. She needs some help at school.” If it was possible to feel any more wretched about not putting her first, I think I would. “Thanks for the money, by the way. You’ll be getting it back.” Pitching forward, I pull away from him, crawling from his arms.
“The money is yours.”
“Because I earned it?” I throw back, still on my knees. I feel drained, wrung out, as I use the drawers to pull myself upright, then dust off my skirt.
“Because it’s yours. I was going to tell you tonight.”
“I can’t do this,” I say, staring at my open suitcase. But because I’m me, and because my anger begins to resurface, I kick it closer to the dresser, then use my arm to clear the top, toppling bottles and compacts, lotions and potions into the case.
Tugging on the first drawer, I pull out handfuls of underwear, throwing them in next. T-shirts. Jeans. Socks. Dresses ripped from hangers and dropped to the floor.
And all the while, Raif just sits, his back straight and pressed against the closet door, his legs outstretched. Maybe he’s watching. I don’t know. I can’t look at him.
Because I’ll only bawl my eyes out.
“Fuck it.” I let out an unsteady breath. “Just… get someone to pack it for me. I’ll get Tod to pick it up.” I step around his legs—out of his reach.
“Don’t leave.”
“How can I not?” I say as I reach the doorway. “I opened my heart to you, peeled back my ribs. Exposed all my secrets, my shame, and my heartache. But you didn’t do the same.”
“Lavender, please.”
“No. There can’t be any love, not real love, not without trust.”
I get as far as the staircase when he strikes like a snake, yanking me back.
“Trust, you say. That’s what the money was meant to be, and that's why it went into your account today. I didn’t want to be another man holding money over your head. I wanted to give you choices. I wanted you to feel like my equal when the opposite is true.”
“Ha!”
“When you’re worth so much more than I will ever be.”
“Let me go,” I grate out. “This is over. I can’t even look at you.” I pull, and he releases. I get to the door, but I don’t look back. “I’ll transfer the money back to your account tomorrow.”
“You’ll keep the money,” he growls, his movements once more animated.
“Fuck you!” I shout. “I want nothing from you.”
“You will keep the money or so help me—”
“Fine!” I bark, my feet thumping on the stairs. “I’ll go on a massive bender!”
“If you want to behave like a child, you go ahead and do what you want.”
“Great! Thanks for the permission. I’ll remember those words when I’m being railed by a rota of expensive gigolos!”
“Lavender.” My name again, this time delivered through gritted teeth.
“Who knows, maybe being screwed by whores might make me feel a little less like one myself.”
At the bottom of the stairs, I find myself in his arms again. No, not his arms, his hands, as he pins me against the wall.
“You’re not a whore.”
“I fucked you for money. Sounds like the dictionary definition to me.” My anger makes my mouth work faster than my brain.
“Say it again, and you’ll regret it.”
“You made me a whore.” I wince as his fist connects with the wall by my head, his knuckles coming off worse against the solid brick. Not that he pauses to examine them as his hand cups my face.
“Stop.” His thumb and fingers tighten. I jerk my chin higher but no dice.
The cokehead lawyer’s words float into my head. “Makes me wonder what kind of magical pussy five million gets you.”
“I hope you feel like you got your money’s worth.”
His mouth crashes against mine. His hand tightens, holding me in place as his lips steal and his tongue plunders.
“I hate you,” I lie, as his mouth slides across my jaw, my neck, the stubble on his cheek a sweet, sweet abrasion.
“I’ll take your hate.”
He groans as my fingers knot in his hair, holding him to me, encouraging the scrape of his teeth.
“You deserve it. I should’ve stuck with Tod.”
“Don’t,” he groans, his fingers pulling my nipple taut.
“It’s true.”
But then his lips return to mine, cutting me off. Teeth nip and tongues thrust, fear and heartache, pinning me against the wall. He grips the back of my knee, lifting it to his thigh as my fingers scramble between us, desperate to own him one last time.