Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
On the topic of girlfriends, I am curious though. I tilt my head to the side and watch him. “How come you never brought your last girlfriend around? I don’t recall meeting her over the holidays.”
“Oh.” He chuckles awkwardly for a couple of seconds. “Her. Um, yeah…” Shaking his head, he smiles wider. “My ex was just in the background while I moved on to something better.”
Real classy.
“You wouldn’t have wanted to meet her. She wasn’t anything special.”
I clench my jaw slightly.
Liliana, nothing special?
“She was so simple. Not elegant or even…” He shapes his hands in the air while he grimaces. “She was overweight and frigid. Not really any fun. I was just with her to pass time.”
Silence spans between us as I watch him.
I’m seething. That he’s so cruel. So judgmental. Criticizing others is human nature, but the wicked righteousness he brings to it sickens me. He’s never done anything to deserve praise or wealth. He’s never tried to accomplish a single thing, just waited for it all to be handed to him.
Liliana is a sexy, sensual goddess, and I can say so with certainty after having her all to myself for those two nights. For Roman not to see what a good woman she is…
I let out a long breath.
Your loss, my gain.
Although that thought rings true, it doesn’t smooth out the irritation that my son had her first, and for longer than I have.
But that no longer matters because I’m determined that she will be mine. And unlike my son, I know when to appreciate something good and rare.
“No.”
Roman frowns. “What?”
“No.” I stand and grab my jacket to pull on.
“No…what?”
“No, I’m not giving you a single fucking penny to spend on your new girlfriend. Or anything else.”
He gawks at me. “Why?”
I roll my eyes, in no mood to lecture him. “Because you haven’t earned it. Contrary to what your mother tells you, and as far as I’m concerned, you haven’t earned anything from me.”
“Yes, I have.” He huffs as I round my desk to leave, like I’m being ridiculous. “I’m your son.”
“Don’t remind me,” I growl.
“I’m your heir,” he adds, far too smugly for my liking.
I grab the front of his shirt and pull him in close to snarl in his face. “Don’t. Remind. Me.”
He squirms, panicked.
“And don’t assume I can’t name someone else in your place. Someone who actually works for my approval.” I release him with a shove.
He staggers back, looking caught between crying and shouting. He’s never learned to regulate his emotions, and I’m losing faith he ever will.
“I do. That’s all I do. I try to impress you, but Mother’s right. It’s impossible!”
I turn to glare at him as he heads for the door, caught in the urge to let this tantrum play out. “All you do is stand around and expect to have whatever you want.” I snap my fingers. “Just like that.”
He sulks, scowling furiously.
“Keep it up, and one of these days you’ll face the consequences of your laziness and stupidity.”
17
LILIANA
Markus isn’t at the bakery when I push the door open. I’m freezing, but the cold doesn’t reach me. It just lies over my skin like a thin sheet of ice, not enough to numb me to what’s real. I’m frozen inside out, still reeling from running into Anton Sokolov mere moments after a pregnancy test told me I’m carrying his child.
The shock stuns me stupid, and I stumble back into the bakery, too impatient to be graceful about it. Hot air hits me hard the second I’m inside. The familiar clatter of the mixers and the hum of the ovens and refrigerators reach me, but in this daze, none of it registers past the low drone of my pulse. It whooshes, too loud, deafening in my head, drowning out every other sense.
My vision is blurred because I can’t latch on to one thing to focus on.
My sense of touch is off, my skin still prickling from the cold air outside, from rushing out of here without a coat.
And my sense of smell—
“Oh, God.” I gulp and strain to breathe through the urgency of needing to vomit again.
It’s the odor of something too sweet from the dough being prepped for early tomorrow morning. It’s the crash from the adrenaline roller coaster of seeing Anton. And it’s the stress that I’m carrying a child I’m not prepared for—at all.
“Liliana!” Jenni spots me at once and dashes toward me. “Are you all right?”
I swallow hard, desperate to get back out again. She’ll expect an explanation, but I can’t stomach another moment in here. Margarita was right. I do need a nap, or something like it, to shake off everything today has thrown at me.
“I…” A lie won’t form on my tongue for her. I’m so far from all right I can’t imagine finding my way back. “I just want to go.” That’s the truth, every part of it. “I need to go and…” I lick my lips, my mouth and throat so dry. Water sounds heavenly, but I refuse to stay here and try to relax. Or to tell her everything that’s going on.