Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
I narrowed my eyes. “And yet you use words to fill time and space with insults when you could just say thank you.”
"It’s hard to pronounce.” He finally opened his blue eyes and stared at me, leaning up onto his elbows. I tried to help him, but the way he clenched his jaw like the last thing he wanted was someone touching him had me dropping my hands back to my sides.
After a minute of squirming and writhing, he was sitting back against the headboard. “So, tell me about yourself.”
I gaped.
"What?” He tried to fold his arms then must have remembered he was bandaged up and, you know, missing freaking skin, and folded them in his lap. “I was serious.”
I nodded. “Leave it to you to cover my ass, pass out from pain after offering my dad your skin and hand in marriage all before asking that question. Besides, you read the black folder.”
The folder that carried both your triumphs and your sins on top of everything else I could have sworn that was attached to you like some sort of demon that the families couldn’t get rid of no matter how many times they tried to cleanse the bloodlines.
“Ah, the black folder.” He rolled his eyes. “And don’t you feel like I should at least be owed a cow or something?”
"Are you high?”
He peered to his right, his eyes unfocused. “Fuck, that’s a lot of morphine.”
I let out snort. ‘Need I remind you that you gave up parts of your flesh all in order to protect my honor?"
"Life,” he corrected. “To protect your life. Besides, too much is at stake and—” He eyed my stomach and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is protecting you and the secret growing inside of you.”
I touched the flatness and dropped my hand. “It’s soon.”
“We should make an appointment.”
I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “It’s next week, actually.”
"I’ll take you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m your bodyguard.”
It happened too fast. The onslaught of emotions that attacked from all sides, all angles. I sat there as pain ran through my chest only to come back around and slice through again, moving up toward my brain to remind me yet again.
He’s gone.
"I’m your bodyguard.” He used to say that whenever he knew I felt guilty about being needy.
Except the last two weeks when things got really physical between us, then it was just this…crazy passion that seemed to never go away. It was like he’d somehow silenced his pretty words with his body, with our bodies. I had to admit that I missed those words before he died. It would have been easier, I think, had I had more memories of him those last few days, of his gentle kisses rather than his passionate ones.
Of holding his hand not hiding from my dad or drugging two made men so I could sneak him into my room.
It had been fun and out of character for him.
In the end, I trusted him.
In the end, he failed to keep his promise to stay alive.
"Right.” I finally squeezed the word I needed out of my mouth and into the tense air. “You’re my bodyguard, so you’ll need to be there anyway. Just try not to freak out over all the pregnant women and screaming children.”
He shrugged. “We’re Italian. I’m used to women yelling. In fact, there is nothing more terrifying than a quiet kitchen.”
I laughed, some of the sorrow dissipating. “I feel that.”
"Thought so.” He winced, not quite masking it with another shrug. “And maybe it’s the drugs speaking, but I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
"Oh? Careful, you’re going to use your allotted word count for the day.”
"Shhhhh…” His grin was dopey, sexy, and cute. I shoved the thought away. Anyone could be cute with happy drugs. “I think I’ll be okay, I put some words in a savings account for special moments like this.” He held up his hand. “Shhhh, I’ll make a quick withdrawal.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I whispered.
He held a hand to his mouth again. “Shhh, ah yes, please, I just need to take out a stack of apologies followed by a few compliments and…” His eyes narrowed at me. “Double the compliments, they carry more truth than apologies, and I’d like to add in something really special.”
“What’s that?”
He gave me a stern look. “Can’t you see I’m on the phone with the bank?”
He actually made a phone motion with his hand. Did he even realize he was doing it? No clue. The drugs must have really, really kicked in. “Sorry, go ahead, I’ll wait my turn.”
He cleared his throat. “Thank you.” After another not needed deep breath he added. “Yeah, she’s really pretty.”
I smiled and wagged my finger at him. “Isn’t that pre-spending compliments?”
"I won’t tell if you won’t.”
I pretend-zipped my lips.