Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
I’m standing in the living room when she comes in from the guest room, wearing one of the oversized sweaters I bought for her. Her hair is pulled back, and she’s got a determined look on her face.
“I’m thinking of going out for a bit,” she says casually.
She doesn’t greet me or try to soften the blow. She never does. She just skips right to the bit of information that’s going to send me into an early grave.
I turn to face her. “And where were you thinking of going?” I ask, my tone bordering on condescending.
“Just to the bookstore around the corner.”
I consider it for a moment. It isn’t far, but there are too many variables between here and there. It’s better not to risk it.
“No,” I tell her after a moment. “If you want some books, I can send a courier.”
Her eyes narrow immediately, and she doesn’t even seem to hear my generous offer.
“No?” she seethes.
“That’s what I said.”
She crosses her arms, bracing herself as if she’s preparing for a fight.
“Samuil, I’ve barely left this apartment all week.”
“I’m aware,” I answer in a bored tone.
“I’m losing my mind in here.”
“Then you can be safe and insane.”
Her jaw tightens, and for a second, I swear she’s trying to keep herself from throwing something at me.
“I’m going to the bookstore,” she insists. “It’s only around the corner.”
“I know where it is,” I tell her icily. “It’s still no.”
She lets out a frustrated breath and turns away from me like she needs to regroup. I can see her chest rising and falling faster, like she’s holding herself together by a thread.
“You promised to respect me,” she says finally. “You said you’d let me live my life.”
“I’m letting you live it,” I say. “Just not outside without protection.”
“I don’t mind the protection,” she snaps, spinning back to face me. “But I’m not walking around with one of your oafs who sticks out like a sore thumb. Give me someone who’ll be inconspicuous.”
“That’s not how my men work.”
“Well, it should be,” she fires back. “I’m not a porcelain doll. You can’t just expect me to be carried around all day because you’re afraid I’ll break. People are going to start asking questions.”
“Let them ask.”
“Samuil, I’ve already taken a leave of absence from my job,” she says, her voice edging toward hysterical. “I haven’t talked to my best friend in days. I doubt that asshole is going to randomly show up in a bookstore on the Upper West Side. I’m perfectly safe.”
“The guards are non-negotiable,” I tell her calmly.
“And my dignity is non-negotiable,” she nearly shrieks back.
My jaw clenches. She notices.
“Samuil,” she says more softly, “I’m not stupid. I know we live in a dangerous world. I just want some control of my own life. A tiny sliver. You know how important this is to me.”
My throat feels tight, and I think back to our conversation a few days ago. I know the hell she’s gone through. I know that a foster family once locked her in the apartment for an entire week, all by herself. I don’t want her to associate me with them, but I simply can’t risk anything happening to her or our child.
“You can’t go alone,” I say again.
“I don’t want a whole damn entourage,” she counters.
We stare at each other for a long moment, tension raging beneath the surface. She’s too independent for her own good, and I’m too stubborn for mine. But I’m also the one who runs this show. My men respect me and they trust my judgment. Why can’t she?
Finally, I relent, but only halfway.
“Fine,” I say. “You can go with one guard. Dressed normally. He’ll keep his distance.”
She blinks, surprised. “Really?” she asks in relief.
“Don’t make me regret it.”
Her shoulders relax a fraction, and she nods. “Thank you.”
She goes to get her bag, and I watch her the entire time, my body coiled tight, every muscle waiting for the moment something goes wrong.
She leaves with the guard, Franco, one of my more discreet men, and for the next hour and a half I pull up Molly’s GPS location just to be sure she’s still at the store.
When she gets back, she looks lighter and more refreshed. I watched her GPS as she went to the bookstore, then to the bakery next door, then home with Franco close behind. She offers me a hot chocolate as a thank-you, and I take it grudgingly.
She looks happy, and that should calm me, but it doesn’t.
The next day, we fight about her leaving again.
The day after that, we fight about her taking a walk alone on the rooftop garden.
The day after that, we fight about her going down to the lobby without her bracelet.
She starts sleeping in the guest room without a word to me about it, and I give her space.