Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Goodnight, Milo.”
His tongue slides over his teeth as he looks down at me.
“Goodnight, Elizabeth.” No one calls me Elizabeth. Only him, and no matter how often I try to correct him and tell him to call me Lissie, he never listens.
He shuts the door behind me, and the click echoes into the quiet night. I glance back as I reach my car, taking in the stillness around me. The parking lot of the clubhouse is usually bustling with club brothers, but no one is here. It’s like we are wrapped in a cocoon of secrecy while I’m here, and I love that it’s just us. I breathe in the cool night air as I unlock my car, and I can’t help but smile, knowing these moments are our own private bubble—ours alone.
Reading to him is my favorite job.
Even if he hates me.
Even if my husband hates him.
Chapter 3
Lissie
“I just wanted him to tell me how much he loved me. The things I would do for those words…”
“You’re finished early. Luckily, he paid already,” Cody, my husband, mumbles, barely glancing up at me as I walk in the door. His eyes remain fixated on the computer—porn being his go-to most nights. This man—my so-called husband—he stopped seeing me a long time ago when he realized what he could get out of me.
Or better yet, what I let him get out of me.
As the years go by, our marriage gets worse. Each passing day feels like another brick in the wall between us, solidifying our indifference toward each other.
I wonder why I stay.
Putting my bag on the counter, I pull open the fridge and find it empty. Nothing new there. Turning back to Cody, who is still glued to his computer, the noises emanating from the surround-sound speakers are unmistakable, so I call his name. He doesn’t listen.
“Cody, where is the food?” I ask, trying to keep the frustration out of my tone. He was supposed to go grocery shopping. He told me he would.
Cody barely looks up from the computer. A dismissive wave signals his indifference. “Fuck off, Lissie, I’m working,” he says, and I watch in disgust as he reaches into his pants and pulls out his cock. His hand circles his shaft, and he starts to stroke it.
He hasn’t touched me for years, not that I’m complaining. I know I’m not with him because I love him. I’m with him because he manipulated my young heart when it was at its most vulnerable, and then he put me in a position where it’s hard to walk away.
Even though I know I should.
Cody is my pimp.
I think that’s the best and only way to describe what he is to me now. We sleep in separate beds, bringing even more distance to a fractured marriage.
He charges for the time I spend reading with Milo. I refused to have sex with Milo, even though he’s never asked. That much I stood my ground on.
I’m twenty-five and have realized I need to leave this relationship—evict myself from it. The thought has been growing in my mind, festering like rotten fruit and gaining strength with every disappointment.
Cody grunts, and I sneer at him as two women take up his screen while he strokes his cock.
Working.
Ha! Yeah, whatever.
He’s probably out fucking whatever is served up to him, and I would never question it—to be honest, I don’t care.
When I was seventeen, I found my mother dead in her bed, with her wrists slit and blood soaked into the sheets. She always had issues, but I never realized how bad they were.
I should have.
Cody had entered my life just before my mother took her life. He was older, charming, and knew what to say, and he was everything a young girl was looking for—trouble and fun. It didn’t immediately start off hot and heavy, but soon, that’s the direction it took.
Cody had a car; he had access to alcohol, drugs, and all the other things that would eventually numb my heart and mind from the pain of not knowing how to save my mother.
Or why I couldn’t.
He would buy me flowers once a week, and in return, I would let him touch me. I thought I was in love with him. He thought of me when no one else cared, and that drew me to him.
It was fun, and when I turned eighteen, he asked me to marry him. I said yes immediately, and then he took all my mother’s money that I received from selling her house and blew it.
And the most fucked-up part?
I let him.
Shaking my head, I grab my bag and stride to the door. The idiot doesn’t even notice I’m leaving.
“You should take some of that fucking attitude you have for me and throw it his way.”
Milo’s words hit me with such force that I pause with my hand on the doorknob and glance back at Cody.