Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I crossed the room, and Godric seemed to know he was my target because he preemptively left the table, hands in the pockets of his suit, and met me in the no-man’s-land between the tables.
The chandeliers that hung from the ceiling were dimly lit, and the music from the string quartet was in the background, not the party music everyone would dance to at some point. He stopped, and he shifted his weight to one leg, staring me down in public.
I stared back, eyes identical to mine, his height just an inch shorter. “Do you know the bride or groom?”
“I know everybody, Bastien.”
The same arrogant son of a bitch. I smiled slightly in amusement. “And I thought you came to see me.”
“I never want to see you.”
I gave a slight nod in mutual agreement. “Guessing you still don’t have any names for me?”
His stare seemed to last forever, even though he lacked any distinct expression. His indifference was potent, like I was a beggar off the street rather than his own flesh and blood. “No.”
I gave a slow nod, somehow disappointed even though I’d gotten the exact answer I expected. “I’m actually glad I ran into you. Something I’ve been meaning to tell you…for thirteen years.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’ve never asked me why I did it. How I did it. Where I put the body…”
His gaze hardened in preparation for whatever I would say next. His indifference was washed away. “Because I know you would never tell me.”
I shook my head. “You were wrong, Godric. So, ask me.”
He continued to stand there with his hands in his pockets, staring me down like this was a silent room rather than a wedding with hundreds of guests. Anyone who gazed upon us must have been able to see the visible tension between us.
“Ask me.”
Godric wouldn’t take the bait, afraid he would step into a trap I’d laid out.
“All these years, you and everyone else believed some ruthless killer plotted the downfall of one of the biggest kingpins in Paris. That they planned that moment with great detail, either for revenge or greed. And when you realized it was me…you finally feared me the way you should.”
He didn’t blink, hung on every word, like he believed I would say what he’d wanted to know all these years.
“But the truth is, I’m not some mastermind who planned the death of my own father. He came to my apartment on a Tuesday afternoon alone. Didn’t tell anyone where he was going, probably to make sure it didn’t get back to you or Mom. But that was a mistake. Told me I was unwanted, that he wished I’d been a girl because I would have been more useful with a pussy between my legs. Then he tried to kill me—but I killed him first.”
He did his best not to react, but his eyes gave him away. They widened slightly like he couldn’t control his silent shock.
“I cut off his ring finger to send to you as proof of his death, dumped his body, and cleaned up the mess. No one came for me.”
His breathing picked up. Whether it was in anger or emotion, it was unclear.
“I waited for someone to accuse me, to realize I was the person who hated him the most, but not a single person even thought it could be me. Like I’m some spineless pussy just because I didn’t want to shoot an innocent girl. Dad said I was weak and worthless, but who’s in charge of this city now?” My eyes flicked back and forth between his. “It’s not him. It’s not you. It’s me.”
His eyes were impossible to read, but there was no doubt he was glued to my tale, probably wanting more details but was still too proud to ask for them.
“You know what’s most ironic about all of this?” I hadn’t expected to come to this wedding and run into my brother, of all people. And I certainly hadn’t expected to dump all my daddy issues on him either. “If he knew what I’d become, he’d be proud of me—and the fact that that makes me smile is the sickest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Godric finally did something, pulled his hand out of his pocket and rubbed his jawline like he needed a second to process everything he’d just learned. It was hard to hear little details over the music, but the breath he released was so loud I noticed it. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Thirteen years ago. Five years ago. But you decide to tell me now in a crowded room at a fucking wedding.”
I dug deep inside and tried to find the answer, but it was like trying to find something in a thick pool of mud. My mind usually protected me from what I failed to tolerate, but that mechanism seemed to have stopped. “Because I wasn’t ready—and now I am.”