Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
No matter how much I hate him, no matter how badly I want to run, I will walk into that bar tomorrow night and do exactly what he demands.
For Simi.
After leaving the office, I hurry to the other wing of the mansion, and as I near the suite Simi is held in, Ivan’s heartless eyes lock on me.
He waits for me to stop in front of the door, and then smirking, he stares down at me. “Hmm…I'm not sure I should allow you to see the brat today.”
He always taunts me, and at least once every few days, he refuses me entry.
Anger pours into my chest. I hate that every vile person in this mansion has power over me. There isn’t anything I can do without risking Simi, and it kills me.
Ivan leans down until I feel his breath on my ear. “You can be glad I’m not allowed to fuck you. I’d make you pay to see the brat.” There’s a low hum in the back of his throat. “At night, I picture all the things you’d allow me to do to you.”
His words coat my skin with another layer of filth before he finally pulls back and opens the door.
I shoot forward, my heart slamming so hard it hurts as my gaze locks on Simi.
Tanya moves to stand by Ivan near the door while my precious daughter scrambles up from where she’s coloring, running with unsteady little legs toward me. Her arms reach for me as she cries, “Mama!”
“Milo moe!” My voice is strained as I drop to my knees to catch her. Pulling her into me so tight that she lets out a small sound, I brush my hands lovingly over her hair and down her back. “I missed you,” I whisper against her temple while taking a deep breath of her scent.
“I waited,” she says, her voice soft. Her fingers curl into my blouse as she presses as close to me as she can get. “I was good, Mama.”
“I know you were,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to cup her face, my thumb brushing over the swell of her rosy cheek. “You’re always good.”
She studies me, her small brows pulling together as her hand lifts and touches my cheek.
“You’re cold.”
I force a comforting smile to my face. “I’m okay.”
Simi’s lips press into a tiny line like she doesn’t believe me, then she shifts and wraps her arms tightly around my neck.
“I don’t like it here,” she whispers, her mouth close to my ear.
My chest tightens, and my heart constricts painfully, but by the grace of God, I keep my voice steady. “I know, sartse moe. I wish I could whisk us away from here.”
Simi pulls slightly back, and her gaze flicks toward the door before returning to me. “Ivan’s scary.”
I smooth her hair back. “Just don’t look at him.”
“I don’t,” she says quickly. “I look at the floor.”
“That’s good. Just keep doing it.”
She nods, then presses her cheek to my chest again. “If I’m quiet, they leave me alone.”
She’s referring to Ivan and Tanya.
My throat burns, but I force a soft smile. “I’m here now, milo moe.”
She listens to my heart that beats only for her.
“I wish you could stay with me, Mama,” she whispers.
“I wish that too.”
We sit like this for a moment longer before she lifts her head, her mood shifting like it always does. “Do you want to play with me?”
A smile widens on my face. “Of course.”
Simi slides off my lap and grabs my hand, pulling me toward the corner where her coloring book and a few toys are scattered. Her movements are quick and eager, like she’s trying to fit everything into too little time, and it makes my heart shrivel from the intense pain rippling through me.
“Sit,” she says, tugging on my hand until I drop down beside her. I’m handed a doll with a missing leg. “You be the mommy.”
A soft chuckle escapes me. “I am the mommy.”
She giggles, a small bright sound that cuts right through me. “No, you be the doll mommy.”
“Okay,” I say, adjusting the doll in my hands.
Kneeling, she picks up another doll. When she positions hers in front of mine, she says, “She’s scared and wants her mommy.”
Oh God.
A lump instantly forms in my throat, and my eyes sting with unshed tears.
Simi’s eyes flit to my face, and I swallow hard before asking, “Why is she scared?”
My precious little girl shrugs, then presses the doll against mine. “She just is.”
I pull both dolls together, mimicking an embrace. “Then mommy holds her.”
We play like this for a while, Simi talking in little bursts while her attention jumps from one thing to another. Her small body stays on the move, as if she’s been starved from having to stay still and quiet so she doesn’t draw attention to herself.