Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I smile at the image of a young and stupid Alex excited to spend money for the first time. “That must’ve been nice, getting your own place.”
“A clean, safe space does a lot for a person.”
“That’s how I felt about my Paris apartment. Did you know that was the first time I ever lived outside my dad’s house?”
“I did know that.”
“It was weird at first. I kept thinking I’d wake up and find Lev in the kitchen or Step in the bathroom. But then I started to like it.” Sort of, anyway. I liked having something that was all mine—but I didn’t like the loneliness and isolation.
“You can have that again, you know. Maybe not right now, but in the future. When things are safe and settled.”
I glance at him and for some reason that doesn’t appeal to me at all. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“I’m going to take care of you.” His dark eyes stare into mine with a deep intensity. “I promise, Natalya. I know this has been hard, and it won’t be easy anytime soon, but I’m going to take care of you.”
I look back at him and a thrill runs down into my toes. He’s going to take care of me, not the baby, not our family, but me, and I know it’s selfish to feel excited about that but I feel it anyway.
I want him to see me so desperately.
This is the Alex I know is always there, even if he’s hidden away sometimes. This is the kind, caring Alex, the man that would do anything for the people he cares about. Even if he’s a pain in the ass, I know this part of him is waiting right beneath the surface.
Sometimes I forget about it though.
“I know you will,” I tell him quietly. “I’m sorry you have to.”
“It isn’t your fault. I wanted this.”
“That makes one of us.” I force myself to look away. “I don’t know what there is for me. After, I mean.”
“We have a long time to figure that out.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“You’re smart, even if you are stubborn as all hell. You’ll find something that makes you happy.”
I nod a little but don’t meet his eye, because I’m not sure that’s true.
He pushes himself back from the railing and ghosts toward the door.
“Heading in?” I ask, not sure why it matters.
“Yeah, and you should too. Quit being stubborn and come sleep with me.”
“I’d rather be tired.”
“Your call.” He hesitates at the door before shaking his head and disappearing inside.
And there goes all my hope with him. I have a feeling this is going to be a long night, the first of many.
Chapter 19
Natalya
Iexplore the apartment and get to know Alex’s habits better than I ever dreamed I would over the next few days.
The machine is an absolute machine.
In the worst way possible.
Five-thirty in the morning, his alarm goes off. He’s out of bed instantly, teeth brushed, face washed, and into his office which doubles as his home gym. I listen to him grunt away, stomping on the floor, throwing around heavy stuff for a while, until he’s in the shower by six-thirty. Then it’s fancy coffee, whole wheat toast, and egg whites for breakfast, before he’s back in his office doing whatever the hell he does in there for a few hours, before he finally leaves to take meetings or break kneecaps or shoot people in the face or whatever.
I try to get more sleep during his morning routine, but it’s impossible. The man couldn’t care less if he’s being too loud, even if I complain. Actually, I think he likes when I complain. All he says is, I’d sleep better in his bed.
I’m pretty sure he’s trying to blackmail me with his bad behavior.
I drift around the house once he’s gone. There’s a small market in a strip mall next to his apartment complex and I end up going there most days to grocery shop. I buy romance paperbacks and magazines at checkout and devour them beside his infinity pool. Sometimes I swim laps, just to give myself something to do.
He makes sure I eat, and he comments when it’s not healthy enough. Pre-natal vitamins appeared on the coffee table one morning, and I’m expected to take them religiously—and he’ll notice if I don’t.
None of this is necessarily bad. He’s trying to make sure I’m healthy and doing all the right things for the baby. I totally get that.
It’s just, he’s overbearing, and has absolutely no patience for mistakes.
“Are you hoarding water?” he asks one morning as he drinks his espresso and glares at me from the kitchen.
I’m lying in my couch nest, half awake and miserable. “What are you talking about?” I grunt at him.
He walks over and nudges a water glass. “This. And this. And this.” He flicks a few more, and it’s only then that I realize there are like eight of them scattered all over the living room, and none of them are empty.