Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Gracen just wished that her boyfriend wasn’t some gangster wannabe. She moved out to the front to tidy up. She’d stuck to the back for most of the day, not wanting the hundred and one questions about her face. When she’d woken up this morning, her eye had been far worse than she’d anticipated.
She should have iced it more, but by the time she’d gotten home last night she’d been exhausted. She’d ended up crawling into bed without even taking time to eat dinner.
This morning, it had been hard to get up and moving. At least now she could open her eye slightly, but she knew it looked terrible. Even Anita had been concerned when she’d seen her, wanting to know who’d hit her. And offering to set Ice and his friends after them.
As if she needed Ice to fight her fights for her.
She hadn’t realized how exhausting it would be to have to rely mostly on one eye all day. Or how painful it would become by the end of her shift.
She wanted to go home, take a nice, hot bath and then sleep.
She moved toward the door as a huge black truck pulled up in front of the shop. It made her freeze for a moment. An expensive vehicle in this neighborhood usually meant the person inside it was a pimp or a dealer.
Neither of which was someone she wanted to deal with at the moment.
Shock flooded her as she saw the person who stepped out.
He’d come.
But as she saw the fury edged into his face, she suddenly wondered if she’d spent all day hoping for something she shouldn’t have.
She didn’t lock the door. Instead, she stepped back and moved quickly behind the counter.
As if that’s going to keep you safe.
Fear flooded her as Victor opened the door and stepped inside, slamming it behind him. He flicked the lock, then he started striding toward her. She ended up in the kitchen before he caught up with her, the bench pressing against her lower back as he moved in closer.
His gaze roamed over her face as he came to a stop mere inches from her. All she’d need to do was take a deep breath and her breasts would brush against his chest.
Suddenly, he reached up to touch her cheek, and she flinched back.
His eyes flared wide as he looked at his hand then down at her. Suddenly, he moved away, horror filling his face.
“You think I’d hit you?” There was raw agony in his voice.
And she realized then that she might have misread his intent. But honestly, he couldn’t blame her. A man twice her size walking toward her with rage filling his face . . . well, wouldn’t most people flinch away in fear?
“I . . . I . . .” she couldn’t get anything more out. What could she say to make this right when she didn’t even know what was going on?
“Who?” he demanded.
Huh?
“What?” she whispered.
“Who was it?” he asked. He’d backed off until he was across the room. And she stupidly found herself wishing he was closer again. That she could catch a hint of his scent, feel the warmth of his body pressed against hers. “Who hurt you?”
Was that why he was so upset? Because he thought someone had hurt her? Was his anger on her behalf? Her last bit of fear bled away as she realized this huge, scary-looking man was upset because he thought someone had harmed her.
“Nobody hurt me.”
“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was whisper soft, but no less impactful because of it. If anything, it made her suck in a sharp breath.
She had a feeling she’d never be able to lie to him. All he’d need to do was give her the look he was giving her right now. The one that seemed to see through her, into her. The one that promised to fight all her battles.
She closed her good eye for a second. She had a raging headache. It had been there all day since she’d woken up, but now it was getting worse.
“Who hurt you, Gracen?” he asked again. “I want a name.”
“Why? Why do you care?”
And how had he known that she was hurt?
“I want a name,” he repeated without explaining himself.
“How did you know? Oh my God, are you on the phone tree?”
He didn’t react to her wail of disbelief.
“I want a name.”
Damn, he was like a broken record. “Nobody hurt me.”
He turned around, giving her his back as he put his hands on the countertop. His shoulders were bunched, stiff. She heard him take several deep breaths. Without stopping to think about it too much, she stepped forward to place her hand on his back. He flinched, and she jumped back.
“S-sorry,” she stuttered out.
Idiot, Gracen. He didn’t want to be touched. He’s obviously going through something, and you just go and put your hand on him.