Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
His body pressed into mine as he took hold of either side of my neck, eyes blazing with determination.
“Calliope.” He ground out my name like he was pulverizing stone to dust. “I want your attention, your rapt fucking attention when I say this.” He paused, standing in between my legs, grasping on to my neck like it was a wooden door floating in the ocean in the wake of a shipwreck. As if he didn’t have my rapt attention just by existing.
When he seemed satisfied, his grip loosened somewhat, and his thumbs started gently massaging my skin.
“I heard everything you said,” he murmured. “Every detail is seared into my memory, every inflection, every word you fucking said. And you’re a capable woman who can tell a story without leaving anything out, without inferring the wrong meaning. So trust me when I say I understand your actions, what you think led to you deserving…” His strong baritone faltered, and his hands squeezed slightly.
His eyes closed as he took in a long breath.
“I understand what made you think you deserved to be assaulted,” he said when he opened his eyes. “And I understand that you made some questionable decisions. Yet I also believe that you are smart enough to know who you were working with. I can’t begin to comprehend the world you were operating in, but I trust that you know that I’m intelligent enough to get that it was some bad shit.”
When he stopped speaking, it took me a few seconds to deduce that he needed some kind of affirmation that I did indeed absorb everything he said.
Since I was hanging on his every word, bracing for impact, I absolutely did absorb everything he said, if not how it would lead to our inevitable breakup.
Though it stood to reason that he was setting up a soft landing for me, since he was that kind of man. Not that any kind of landing on a surface where Elliot was no longer in my life would be soft.
It was necessary, though, and I could survive difficult, painful things. I’d cut my feet on the broken glass of a vase in my house after being raped and beaten in order to use the bathroom. I stitched together my split skin with a dislocated finger. I could handle a breakup with what might be the nicest man I’d ever encountered.
“Believe me when I say, with all of my heart, that you did not deserve that,” he hissed. “You are a good person. I know one when I see one. You’re a good person who made bad decisions, and that’s allowed.” He stroked my face with impossible gentleness. “You’re allowed to make mistakes, Calliope, and you shouldn’t have to pay in fucking blood when you make them.”
He rested his forehead against mine as I fought back tears.
There was no point arguing with him. He was very convincing, obviously having convinced himself. And almost me, had I not been bubbling with self-hatred and blame.
“This man … Jasper.” Leaning back, he spat his name. “He knew about the attack?”
I sucked in a breath that smelled of blood and sweat. “I assume he knew. Maybe not in time to stop it.” I’d often wondered if he had known in plenty of time, if he’d done anything. “But after the fact, he was definitely aware.”
“Yet he didn’t go to you.” Elliot’s nostrils flared, tone clipped. “You were the victim of an unimaginably traumatic assault, and he left you there.”
Elliot was not an angry guy. Nor violent. Up until that moment, I would’ve bet that he was incapable of such emotions. But as we sat there, it coated the air. A violent fury so visceral, it almost changed the shape of his face.
“No, he didn’t,” I agreed.
“And now he’s here, what? Trying to get you back?”
I again calculated what a half-truth might do instead of telling him the full truth. Elliot knew about my involvement with the mob, but he was too distracted with the rape to infer that they might’ve still wanted something from me.
“Yes.” I decided it was best that I make it seem romantic, rather than the entire truth. The truth being the Russian Mob wasn’t done with me. It was better Elliot thought Jasper just wanted his girlfriend back.
“He’s not getting you.” Elliot’s grip on me tightened with his vow. “No way in fuck.”
“No one gets me.” I smiled against the possession in his tone. “I’m not a toy.”
“No, Calliope, you’re not a toy.” Elliot’s eyes cleared. “You’re a fucking treasure.”
His words hit me harder than that punch in the face did, but I schooled my expression, my body sagging under the crash of adrenaline from the night, from telling Elliot all I’d ever tell him.
Elliot noted this, being as physically close as he was. “Go get ready for bed.” he kissed my head. “I’ll tidy up here. Meet you there.”