Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“I want to see our son,” I say to Peyton.
“He’s not yours,” she volleys. “He’s mine. I already told you that you’re not getting anywhere near him. You’re violent and dangerous, and you’ll have to kill me before I let you get close to my son.”
“That can be arranged,” I tell her, striding across the room.
Despite her false bravado, her eyes flash in fear as her back hits the wall.
Normally, I’d reassure her that I’d never hurt a woman, especially the mother of my child, but I’ve had enough of her shit.
“I understand you think you’re protecting our son, and I can even respect that,” I tell her, caging her in. “But you cost me over three years of his life, and it stops now. You made your choices, and now, you’ll deal with the consequences. I’m giving you forty-eight hours to come to terms with the fact that our son has a father. One who will be in his life. When I return in two days, be prepared to move to Harbor Point.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I shake my head.
“You have nothing keeping you here. Your mom is dead, you graduated, and this apartment is leased.”
“I have a job!”
“Your part-time job as a flight attendant?” I scoff. “It barely even pays your bills. You’re running out of money and hoping to land a job at one of the hotels or restaurants you applied to.”
Her eyes turn into thin slits. She’s pissed that I know so much, but I don’t care. She did it her way the past four years, and that ends now.
“Our son will have a home in Harbor Point, where he’ll be given the best of everything. You can either get on board or the train will leave your ass here. You were right. I am dangerous, and I am powerful, which means I have important people in my pockets. As you know, I’ve killed people, yet I’m not behind bars. I do what I want, where I want, how I want, and nobody will fucking stop me.”
“Cocky much?” she chokes out.
“No, just stating facts. If you don’t think I’ll use my connections to make sure I have our son in my life, you didn’t do your research.”
I step back to give her some space. She’s going to need it because once I return and bring her back to my place, her days of having space are over.
“I will stop at nothing to ensure I don’t lose another minute of time with our son, and I promise, I have the money and resources to make it happen.”
I turn my back on her and saunter to the door. “Pack your shit, Peyton,” I say as I open the front door. “I’ll be back in two days, and our son is coming with me. With or without you.”
I slide back into the town car and pull out my phone, needing to get shit rolling, when I notice a text from a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown: An eye for an eye.
I forward it to our IT guy so he can run a trace on it, tell my driver to take me to my hotel, and then shoot a text to my assistant.
Dominick: Send packing supplies over to Peyton’s apartment.
Peyton has two days, and then I’m coming for both her and our son. If I have to take her back to Harbor Point, kicking and screaming, that’s what I’ll do.
She played this game her way. Now, it’s time to play it mine.
19
Peyton
“I want a tree like that,” Damien says, cuddling into my side as I close The Giving Tree—his recent favorite book that’s about a tree who has a special friendship with a boy as he grows up. “Can we get a tree like that?”
He looks up at me with a serious expression, and I stifle a chuckle, not wanting my three-year-old to think that I’m mocking him.
“We’d have to grow it,” I tell him. “And that would take years.”
He sighs and thinks for several seconds before his eyes light up. “Or we can find a tree no one wants and then dig it up and bring it here.”
“Where would we put it?”
“I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully. “We need a yard like Frankie.”
Frankie is his friend from preschool. Ever since Damien went over to his house for a playdate, he’s been begging me for a yard with a swing set and a pool.
It’s tough, living in an apartment complex with a child. The place is small, and there isn’t really any room to play. Because it’s a one-bedroom apartment, we share a room. As he gets older, he’s going to need more space, but in order to find a bigger place, I need to get a better job. I could easily go full-time at the company I work for, but that would mean flying for longer flights, sometimes even overnight, and I don’t want to be away from Damien that long.