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)
“But I don’t love it, Fleur. I love you.”
Her eyes came back to me.
My heart started to race as I felt it creep up my spine, the truth that I’d pretended was a lie for a decade. Broken shards started to fuse together once more, but somehow, the healing was more painful than the initial break. “You were right.”
She continued her stare, not a blink in sight.
I thought about what I’d said to Godric at the wedding, how fucked up in the head I was. “I did all of this to prove that I’m not the spineless, weak, unwanted boy my father said I was. But he’s long dead, and I can’t prove shit to a ghost. If I were truly a secure man, I wouldn’t care about proving a damn thing. But I’m not.”
Her eyes softened like she might start to cry.
“This job doesn’t mean anything. It’s you that means everything.” I’d made my billions, I’d proven that I was a greater man than my father was, proven that I was more successful than his favorite son.
But I was just as empty as I’d been the moment my father looked me in the eye and said he wished he’d never had me. I’d changed in a lot of ways, put on a hundred pounds of muscle and covered my scars with tattoos, was unrecognizable to most people who knew me as a boy, but underneath, I hadn’t changed one bit.
I’d been lying in my father’s blood and staring at the ceiling all this time.
“Bastien…” Her hand went to my arm, like she knew I was on the verge of tears that I would never shed, not even in front of her. I hadn’t cried since the night I’d killed my father, and I never would.
My eyes were on the fireplace when I grabbed her hand and cradled it to my mouth. I kissed her palm before I enclosed it in my fist and placed it against my heart. “You are my life now.”
“You sure about this?” Luca sat beside me in the back seat.
“Yeah.”
“Could be a trap.”
“Even if it is, I’ll be fine.” I opened the back door and got out before Luca could say anything else. It had just started to rain, but I let my clothes grow damp and my hair wet as I took my time approaching the doors to the restaurant.
The lights were on inside, showing a dimly lit steakhouse with a checkered tile floor. The grand fireplace against the wall was on and blanketed half of my visitor’s face in light and the other half in darkness.
No one else seemed to be there, and the table he occupied wasn’t directly next to any windows.
I approached the table and saw him up close, blond hair and blue eyes, his Russian features obvious. He had the nose for it too. He had a distinct scar from his eyebrow to his chin, like a knife had gutted him badly years ago.
We stared at each other for a hard minute before I took a seat.
He didn’t have a drink in front of him. Kept his hands above the table with his arms crossed—unspoken etiquette.
My elbows rested on the table, my hands together near my face.
Heavy silence passed, both of us staring at each other, trying to pierce the other’s bulletproof exterior. He reminded me of the cosmonauts I saw on TV, launching from Kazakhstan.
With men like us, this staring contest could last days.
He spoke first. “You’ve been looking for me, Butcher.” He cocked his head slightly, a man who was ten to fifteen years older than me but still bulky with muscle. “Well, here I am.”
I was an arrogant man, but I was never arrogant about an opponent that could affect my city so profoundly. With his harsh ideologies, he campaigned for my job, and he was obviously a decent candidate because my own supporters were turning on me. “Good. No one likes to chase a rat in a sewer.”
Instead of rising to the insult, he allowed a slow smile to creep over his lips. “You’re a young, arrogant son of a bitch. I like it. You remind me of myself.” He raised his hand toward his face then traced the scar from eyebrow to jaw. “Before I got this.”
The threat was subtle, but I definitely got the message.
“I still remember the man who gave this to me. Was never the same after…”
“Did it feel better after your mother kissed it?”
His smirk returned. Most men were probably too intimidated to face off with him, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy the fact that I wasn’t intimidated at all. “I’ve admired your work. From humble beginnings as the son of a simple dealer to President Martin’s right-hand man and the first French Emperor, it’s quite impressive for a young man. Which is why I’m going to offer you a deal that would be unwise to refuse.”