Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
His story rings through me like a series of concussive explosions.
I knew there was tragedy in his past. He wears it like weight on his shoulders. His smile, his outgoing attitude, it’s there to cover for something.
Only I didn’t know it was something like this.
A lost friend at such a young age.
It clearly still haunted him.
“I know what you are.” I put my hand on his thigh. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m so sorry for your friend.”
He grunts at me. “She died because an older guy got her drunk and took advantage of her. He convinced her to do something stupid and dangerous, and she did it. That’s why I’m disgusted by what happened with Allison. I know the situation isn’t the same, but I don’t ever want to be that person.”
“You’re not, not even close. The fact that you’re even thinking about it says so much.”
“I’m not a good person, Isabel. You need to understand that. I tried to save my friend, but I’ve done other things. Worse things.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
He stares into my eyes. “Andy’s dead. I took care of him myself when I turned twenty. The sad part is it didn’t make the pain go away. Nothing ever does. But he drowned, just like Eva did, all alone in the darkness.”
I pull my hand away. Fear mixes in with the heartache. I feel sick, my stomach a knotted mess. “You killed him?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he says, “You don’t need to be afraid of me. I’m still the same person I was before. Only what you’ve seen glosses over the truth of what I am, and I want you to know me, Isabel. I want you to really know me.”
I thought I did too. The idea of uncovering the parts he keeps hidden feels intoxicating. But after that story—
I’m not sure I want to anymore.
I shift away from him and stand. I pace, throw back my wine, finish the glass. My head’s a mess.
This guy went through something horrible. He lost a friend in a terrible accident, and it clearly never left him.
But what am I supposed to do with this? Now that I know he killed a person, how can I look at him the same?
He’s always been this man.
There’s been a wall between this part of his life and the more legitimate aspects. There’s the Lincoln hotel and all the other properties he controls, and then there’s the Costa Family.
Between me and the violence.
I’ve always known about the dark places. I try not to think about it, but they’ve always been there lurking behind all those late night meetings and the shady, whispered phone calls.
Only I hoped they were an illusion, a mirage.
“Was he a bad person?” I ask, finally looking over. “This Andy guy. Was he bad?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. To me, it matters.”
“Andy was a bad person, but maybe not in the way you’re thinking. He didn’t kick puppies. He didn’t steal from retirees. But he was selfish and conniving. He used people. He abused them in some cases. His appetite for younger women never went away, even as he got older. Andy was a bad man, and the world’s better off without him.”
“Okay,” I take, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I can handle that.”
It doesn’t fix anything, but at least I can understand why Conlan did what he did.
He gets up. “Andy deserved what he got, but he’s not the only person I’ve hurt over the years. If you think they’ve all been monsters, you’re kidding yourself. I do what needs doing for the family.”
“I don’t want to hear anything else.”
“It’s time we stopped pretending, Isabel. You can’t keep going on like I’m some normal businessman. If you’re going to be in my life—”
I hold up a hand. “This isn’t forever. Right? It’s not forever, which means we can keep this stuff hidden, okay? We don’t need to talk about it.”
His face twitches. I can tell he doesn’t like that. But we both know I’m right.
If I was his real wife, I’d need to know about this stuff.
His fake wife doesn’t.
“If that’s really what you want,” he says after a long pause, sounding almost reluctant. “I want you to know me.”
“And I don’t want to see you as a criminal.”
“Is that what my story taught you?” His head cocks to the side. “Everything I just said and all you took away are my crimes?”
“No, that’s not it, I’m just—”
“You’re afraid of me now.”
I ball my hands into fists. “Yes. I’m afraid of you.”
He grunts as if I kicked him in the chest. “All right. I understand.”
“Conlan—”
“No, I understand,” he repeats. “This is temporary. We don’t really need to do this, do we?” He moves past me toward the steps. “I’m going to bed.”
I vibrate with the need to call out. I want him back on the couch, rubbing my feet, talking about himself.