Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
My phone goes off, the sound making my stomach tighten. I don’t get rattled, but waiting for a call from War has me on edge. I hit the speaker when I see it’s my sister calling.
“How’d it go?” she asks. I hear her shut a door, finding privacy.
“He didn’t kill me.”
“Don’t say that shit.” Sloane scolds me like she’s my big sister and not little.
“He didn’t toss me out on my ass either and tell me to get fucked.” I’d taken that as a really good sign. War was taking my offer seriously.
“What did he do then?”
“It wasn’t a long meeting, but he said he’d have to speak to Naomi about it.”
“How long until you know?”
“He asked if I was staying in the city, so I’m guessing late tonight or tomorrow.” The Marinos always have a family dinner once a week, and that was today.
Sloane lets out a long sigh. “Are you sure you want to do this? You could sell it all and make it someone else’s problem.”
“You’d be okay with that and what the fallout would be?”
“Just sell it to War, and then your conscience will be free.” Not sure that is true.
“No,” I tell her. It’s not only about getting Naomi; it’s also about getting revenge on a few powerful men who let my father get away with murder, and I mean that literally. When I’m done with them, they will no longer have any power or likely be breathing. “You know it’s not that simple for me.”
“You already won. He’s dead.” Her voice drops. “We made sure of that.” We did. The old man had a heart attack. The drugs and whores finally did him in. At least that’s the story we’re selling, and everyone is buying it.
“How are you doing?” I change the subject. It’s a moot point. The only thing to stop me from moving forward with this plan would be death.
Naomi will be mine one way or another. She’ll have to kill me herself, which might be an option she takes, but I think curiosity has gotten to her. That’s what I wanted. I could see a little flash of curiosity in her eyes when I winked at her today. I got her attention, and I plan on keeping it on me.
“I have a couple hours until my shift is over, but I’ll be crashing in one of the rooms at the hospital. They need me back at it early.” Sloane sounds exhausted, but she actually loves what she does.
“Don’t go and—” I’m cut off by a loud beeping. “I’ll talk to you later.” I know that sound means she is needed now.
“Later, I love you.” She hangs up before I can respond. I’m damn proud of her. Sloane was what my father called a bastard child. A mistake.
I don’t think he would have thought that if she’d been a boy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t making plans for her to be useful one day. Everyone was property to him. He was waiting for an opportunity to use her for some sort of gain.
He kept her existence quiet until he was ready to use her, and that day had been quickly approaching. The fucker didn’t give a shit about her but expected her to hand her life over to him in a marriage trade. Every time he’d talk about how much a virgin bride would go for, I had to fight the urge to slit his throat.
Sloane is brilliant. I’m not sure where she gets it from. Her mother was useless, always latching on to one man after another. I’d talked my father into sending Sloane away to a private school. That would protect his asset, as he said it.
He didn’t give a shit that Sloane excelled in school, graduating at thirteen and going on to college. She became a fucking doctor before she was old enough to have a sip of alcohol. That meant nothing to him. In fact, he would say it was wasteful for her to spend her time even engaging in higher education.
I go back to clicking through the pictures. I can tell Naomi already knows about my proposal. I’ve studied her long enough. Her brows are furrowed together in the few clips we could catch. With the warehouses they’ve converted, they can pull their cars right inside, so I don’t get any clear pictures.
I’d kill to know what she’s thinking right now. If she’s made a decision. There is no way I’ll be able to sleep. I should work, but I need to burn off some aggression. I fire off a message to Arturo, my head of security and my right hand for most things, to see if he wants to use the gym or the stairs in the hotel we’re staying in.
My phone goes off in my hand. “She’s on the move.”