Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
He sits on the edge of my bed—my former bed, I mean—and grimaces slightly. He’s been favoring one side ever since he got home. When I ask about where the bruises came from and why his knee seems all messed up, he refuses to talk about it. He’s skinnier than he’s ever been, and there are bags under his eyes.
“His name’s Roger Delaney. I’m pretty sure that’s not real, but it’s what he went by. The guy had this weird little collection of fetishes—”
“Fetishes?” My eyebrows raise.
“Not like that.” Brenden shakes his head at me. “Fetishes, as in objects believed to have supernatural powers.”
“I had no clue that had another definition.”
“It’s an old magic thing. But anyway, he treated his little collection like they were holy relics or something.”
“What did he take?”
“Wedding rings. Seriously, wedding rings, from men and women. Anyone he could get his hands on, he’d take their ring and add it to his collection. He told me one night when he was wasted as hell that the rings gave him some of their previous owner’s strength. Batshit crazy but a great burglar.”
“You think my collection’s crazy too?”
He shakes his head. “I think it’s a liability, but it’s important to you. I’m just curious why you haven’t moved it into your new house yet.”
I was wondering the same thing. I glance back into the closet and try to imagine all those objects under Alexan’s roof, but it feels wrong.
Those are mine, but that place is partially his.
I don’t want to share my treasures with anyone, not even my husband.
“I’ll do it eventually,” I say vaguely as I put the loose board back into place. “When I’m ready, I guess.”
“Think you ever will be?” Brenden’s voice is serious as he studies me. “Seriously, Riles, you good?”
“Depends on how you define good, but yeah, I’m okay.”
“He’s treating you well?”
I’m about to answer when the door pushes open. My father’s standing there in the hallway, frowning in at us like we’re sitting here planning a coup.
“Riley’s marriage isn’t your concern,” Dad says to Brenden. “You should stay out of it.”
Brenden glares at our father. “I’m just making sure he’s treating her well. You really don’t care if you sold her off to some asshole?”
“Alexan Sarkissian will respect the agreement we put in place.” Dad doesn’t seem fazed by Brenden’s anger. He never does. My brother could scream in our father’s face, and our old man would only stare death in return. “Beyond that, you don’t need to worry.”
“That’s typical.” Brenden gets to his feet with a slight grimace. “Don’t worry, we’ll shoulder the burden.”
“That’s enough.”
“No, it’s fine. You go on and sell your daughter—”
“I said, that’s enough.”
Brenden looks disgusted as he hobbles past me. He pauses and puts a hand on my shoulder, and I want to say something. I want to thank him for standing up to our father, tell him that I’m okay, that Alexan’s actually not bad at all, that if anything goes wrong, it’s all my fault, only I can’t make myself talk.
Not with our father standing there and watching.
Brenden walks off. If he’s surprised that I keep my mouth shut, he doesn’t show it.
He’s used to my cowardice by now.
“Careful how you talk, Riley,” Dad says, glaring in at me. “You know how important your alliance is to the family.”
Fuck you, judgmental asshole. I’m doing the best I can.
“Yes, Dad. I know.”
“I hope you’re not doing anything to endanger the peace.”
I drag in a breath through my nose to stay calm. My shoulders slump with the effort. “I know my role.”
“Good.” Dad turns away. “Make sure you don’t forget it. And stop coming over here. Your place is back home.”
Which sure as hell isn’t here anymore.
Once he’s gone, I collapse onto the bed. My heart’s racing, and sweat breaks out on my skin. There’s not a single person in the world that can make me feel so small and weak like my father can.
All he has to do is give me that disappointed look, and suddenly I’m a little girl again, desperate to please her daddy but unable to ever do it.
Absolutely pathetic.
I get out of there not long after. I head out front, thinking I’ll order an Uber back to Alexan’s, but there’s a black BMW already waiting.
And my husband is behind the wheel.
I hesitate, staring at him. He looks right back at me and motions with his head for me to get in.
I figure running away would only make things worse, so I climb into the passenger seat.
“I didn’t know you were running a car service,” I say as sweetly as I can.
“You shouldn’t be out here. You know how dangerous it is.”
“I just have some things I still need at home.”
He glances at my empty hands, and I realize I left all my stuff back in my room. Oh, well, too late now. I’m not going back inside.