Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Sure, I could likely ask for what I need, but Enzo likes to claim he knows me so well and these two key pieces—music and pointe shoes—are proof he does not.
I’m fully aware holding on to that is childish and does nothing but hurt myself, and I don’t care. There’s some sort of satisfaction that comes with knowing he’s wrong and thinks he’s right.
Sighing, I drop my head back, hating the feeling of my long hair sticking to my back, but I couldn’t be bothered with taking the time to tie it up.
I did strip from my dress, though, putting on the stupid bodysuit that’s intended to be a top but is all this place has to offer as far as an acceptable uniform, and started dancing to the hum of the music in my mind.
A slight breeze sweeps through the window, and I clench my eyes closed.
“I don’t want to be here,” I whisper to myself. I want to take it all back.
The fundraiser was a disaster and not something I want to repeat.
I want to return to Greyson Manor, even if I’m only allowed to stay in the basement level with my sister’s little helpers. Hell, I’ll move into the dorms at Greyson Elite if I have to. Anything is better than sharing a house with a man I’m married to and the girl whose spot I’ve taken.
At the dinner, Katana sat on Enzo’s left, mirroring my place beside him, and did her best to ignore me. The only positive point was when Enzo confiscated my steak knife the moment it was lowered before me, and she jerked in her seat, clearly understanding why he felt the need to do so.
She’s in her right mind to be scared.
There’s no telling if I might have used it or not, but I one hundred percent would have been tempted.
God, the night was a bust. A waste of energy and an eye-opener.
I fucked up, letting the words he spoke get to me, the glam squad and champagne only adding to my moment of mental weakness.
He said tonight was our night, yet Enzo and I were seen together for a total of thirty minutes, his attention locked on Katana like she was a flight risk he was afraid of losing.
Dinner was a silent event and used as a way to move the evening along; the speeches going on in the background, because no one really cared to listen.
We left the moment Enzo wrote out a check the damn crown-of-thorns starfish would never see a cent of. Them and four dozen other filthy rich men. Honestly, these fake little money washing fundraisers are as basic as they are brilliant.
To my surprise, Katana wasn’t in our car on the ride home, but rather the one ahead of us. Guess he was worried I might make a go at her throat.
Fuck them both.
If I wanted to kill her with that blade, she would be dead. Period.
If my father taught me anything firsthand, it was how to win in the game of who gets to keep breathing if it came to that. My aim is as accurate as a bee’s cues to pollen.
Katana is family, Enzo had said. Rocklin thinks she’s his little sister and it seems that is exactly what Enzo set her up to believe, even if the reason why has yet to reveal itself. Regardless, it means pretty, perfect Katana isn’t going anywhere.
“Fuck my life.” I huff, dropping my head into my hands.
A throat clears then, and I whip an icy glare toward the open door.
Enzo stands there in the same suit he wore to the fundraiser, but he’s removed his jacket, his guns now on full display. They’re clipped to his waist, and there’s a frown etched across his stupid handsome face.
“Ever heard of knocking?”
He ignores me, walking farther into the room, his eyes assessing every inch of me and hardening with each passing second at whatever it is he thinks he sees.
I promptly shift, tucking my feet beneath me and repositioning myself.
As casually as possible, I gather my hair and comb my fingers through it as I lay it across one shoulder, hoping I don’t look like the total mess I feel and hating that I care.
Enzo’s eyes meet mine and he crosses his arms, leaning back against the edge of the desk. He stares a moment, and then says, “I made a mistake bringing Katana tonight.”
Surprise settles in my bones at his confession, chipping at a bit of the ice wall that’s built itself up within me.
“Her presence overshadowed you,” he adds, and now I want to punch him again.
“Fuck you, Enzo.” I shake my head. “I don’t need to shine. I never have, never will.”
I reach for the robe thrown over the edge of the bed, tugging on the end so I don’t have to show him more than I want him to see, and tug my arms through it. Only once it’s tied do I jump to my feet, quickly shoving my bare feet in a pair of house shoes as I walk over to the small fridge.