Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Screw that.
I don’t even hate his house. I’m happy to split time with him. I don’t want to be difficult and unfair. It’s more that this marriage is happening a lot faster than I anticipated and it’s leaving me feeling extremely unsettled.
Random murders do that to a girl.
Quietly, I slip out of bed. I walk lightly to the door and pause, listening to see if Seamus is going to wake up. He doesn’t react when I move out into the hallway.
The stairs are quiet. Downstairs is dead. All the lights are off. The fancy smart smoke detectors glow as I pass, giving me a little visibility. The kitchen is wreathed in darkness and the city outside my windows glitters. It’s a little past two in the morning, and New York is slowing down for the night.
I’m being stupid. Seamus’s worries are making me paranoid. I understand all too well how dangerous our family businesses can be, but that usually doesn’t extend to people like me.
I’m outside the lifestyle. I don’t have anything to do with Morozov activities. Most men living that life understand there are certain lines they shouldn’t cross if they want to protect the people they care about.
Wives and daughters are usually off-limits.
But since I was used in an arranged marriage to create a more solid mafia alliance, does that mean I’m a valid target now?
The living room feels cold. I hug myself, not sure when it got so chilly. A breeze kicks up the edge of my pajamas. I’m about to head back when I notice one of the windows is open. They don’t push out all the way, just enough to let in some air.
I don’t remember touching them. Seamus must’ve cracked it earlier and forgot to pull it shut.
I walk over to close it when something catches my eye.
It’s a piece of paper. Thick cardstock, folded in half to form a tent.
My name’s written on one side.
It’s propped up on the sill beside the open window.
And I know for a fact that it wasn’t there earlier.
Another chill runs down my spine. This time, it’s not from the breeze. I look around in a panic, but nothing’s moving. There’s nobody else in here. I’m all alone.
I feel like someone’s watching as I pick up the note and look inside.
Do You Want To Leave Him?
I stare at the bizarre message. It’s written in blocky letters. I don’t recognize the handwriting. It’s not signed by anyone.
Only those words.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who would leave this for me? I can’t even begin to think of who would break into my apartment just to leave this strange little question.
It makes no sense.
“What’s going on?”
Seamus’s voice makes me yelp. I jump and hide the note behind my back without thinking. He’s standing over in the hallway, squinting over at me, wiping his face blearily. Before he comes closer, I bend down and tuck the note behind one of the couch cushions.
“Nothing. Couldn’t sleep.”
He drifts toward me. He’s shirtless and wearing a pair of cotton joggers. They cling to his muscular legs. In the half-light from the city, he looks like a vengeful demon lord. Like an incubus sent here to break me.
I should tell him about the note.
Someone definitely broke in here to leave it for me. It could be connected with the murders.
But I don’t say anything.
Maybe because of what it says.
Because it’s about him.
And a part of me doesn’t know how to answer it.
“Everything okay?” He stands at the edge of the living room, looking at me carefully. He’s waking up now.
“Totally fine.” I pull the window shut with a light thud. “I just needed some air.”
He seems more curious than suspicious. “Do you do this often?”
“Not really. But I like the view.” I glance at the buildings and see him coming closer in the reflection in the glass. “It’s just been a stressful few days, that’s all.”
“I know I haven’t made things easier.” His voice is low and soft. He’s very close to me now. I can feel the heat from his bare chest. “I don’t like being controlling. That’s not my personality. I prefer to let things be as they are.”
“I know it’s been a tough situation.”
“I’ve never been responsible for someone before.” He sounds almost pained. “I’ve never cared enough.”
I glance back at him over my shoulder. He’s staring at me, ruthless and unrelenting. There’s hurt in his eyes.
“I find that hard to believe. You’re a good-looking man. I bet you’ve had a million girlfriends.”
“For a night or two.”
“You’re seriously telling me that I’m your most serious relationship?”
I get a very small smile. “You better be. We’re married, remember?”
“You know what I’m saying.”
“I’ve never been with a woman long-term before you.”
I open my mouth to protest, but I don’t think he’s lying. I honestly can’t judge him for it. Alex was my most serious relationship before Seamus, and he was barely more than a fling.