Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
“Is there a chance she’ll wake up?” I held back my tears. I was too exhausted for another big cry.
“Miracles happen, but…” He grimaced. “It’s unlikely.”
“What do I do?” I blurted out. “It’s just…once she’s gone, I’ll be all alone. And I know that cognitively she hasn’t been with me for a while, but even taking care of her kept me together.” Remembering myself, I laughed, dabbing the corners of my eyes with tissue. “God, look at me. A sobbing mess. You didn’t ask for any of this. You probably see grieving family members all the time and don’t have the energy for that.”
He put his clipboard down, hesitant. “I entered this field because I wanted to help. I still do. What you’re feeling is normal. Grief is a part of letting go.” He paused. “It’s important to remember to prioritize self-care. We have a bereavement group if you need to talk to someone. Having a strong support system is essential.”
I knew what I had to do.
Dylan alluded to that too.
I needed to protect my heart.
To leave Tate behind.
If I didn’t leave now, I’d stay stuck in a loveless marriage, the worst place for a broken person to be.
Only it wasn’t so loveless. I was, in fact, in love.
With all that he was and all he could be.
The only way to protect my heart was to shield it from the man who could break it.
The man who would hate me if he knew what really happened with his adoptive father that night.
A man who chose pride over happiness.
Money over family.
And war over me.
“He’s going to kill someone when he finds out.” Enzo tossed a chip into his mouth, chewing loudly. “Most likely me.”
Surprised, I looked up from the fluffy rom-com I was reading on my Kindle. It was the first time Enzo spoke to me the entire time he was my bodyguard. Filippo was taking a nap in a plush recliner behind us.
“Why?” I reached for my Bloody Mary. We were sitting in my newly purchased private jet, flying out from New York to London. “Because I left the country without telling him, or because I served him with divorce papers?”
“Both,” Enzo deadpanned. He was slunk back with one boot propped on the table, playing with his Swiss Army knife and eating kettle chips. His hands were full of cuts. I noticed that whenever he made fresh cuts, he didn’t even flinch. Like he was incapable of feeling pain.
I had studied the Ferrantes closely in recent weeks. Luca was the quiet, calculating one. Adequately handsome. Chillingly mysterious. Achilles was the deranged, ferocious one. Scarred from head to toe, tattooed to his last inch. Enzo was the loveliest. As exquisite as fine art. But he seemed so out of place in this world. I could see him partying in Cancun with his fraternity brothers or running in slo-mo in an A & F ad, throwing a Frisbee.
“Well, it shouldn’t come as a surprise.” I sat up demurely. “Our contract says I can divorce him when my mother dies.”
“Last I checked, she ain’t dead,” he drawled, eyes trained on his fingers as he flipped the knife-like quicksilver. “Unless of course he found out you were gone and decided to punish you creatively.”
Despite knowing Tate was more than happy to unalive large swaths of people, I wasn’t worried about him killing anyone innocent or faultless.
When I didn’t answer Enzo, he continued, “He wants to protect you, you know.”
“Protect me?” I snorted. “Tate is the reason why I’m in danger.”
“Yeah.” He ran his hand over his hair. “He kinda messed that up.”
“He doesn’t love me,” I snapped.
“Dude, are you for real?” Enzo snorted. “No man I know would go through all this convoluted bullshit for a piece of ass.”
“Convoluted bullshit?” I narrowed my eyes. “It’s not like I trapped him into marrying me.”
He shrugged. “The sick mother. That experimental trial thingy. The contract. The bodyguards. The shopping sprees. The sass. Admit it, Gia, you’ve got baggage.”
“Everyone’s got baggage,” I snapped.
“Sure. But plenty of people are willing to hide theirs to bag someone like Blackthorn. Not your ass. No. You keep it real.”
Was there a compliment hiding somewhere in his sentence?
“You give him hell, and he gives you back heaven. Why do you wanna call this?”
“Obsession,” I said crisply. “And I don’t know…karma for something terrible I did in the past?”
“I can see why he’s drawn to you.” He ran his tongue over his upper lip wolfishly. “I like a woman with a smart mouth. I always wonder what other impressive tricks she can do with it.”
I shook my head, looking out the window. A fluffy sheet of white clouds stretched beneath us like linen.
Enzo was dead wrong about Tate’s feelings for me. Anyway, I didn’t want to talk about it. The Ferrantes already had a front-row seat to the dumpster fire we called our marriage.