Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Then we continue to her room.
Not like I’ve never made the same mistake, but I’d never get this tipsy if I knew I was going home to my dad. Living with Lucas has eliminated the concern of being reminded by my detective father how easy it is for college girls to get taken advantage of. He’s seen a lot of things over the course of his career, but the overbearingness that comes with him is too much.
Callum isn’t the same kind of parent, though. Even back in the day, before we could legally drink, he always had a mature attitude toward Tatum’s partying.
“It’s a waste of time to forbid you, so I’ll only ask that you make smart choices—and that you call me the instant things seem to go in the wrong direction.”
Of all people, a notorious arms dealer like Callum Torrio knows about the dark side of life as much as any criminal detective would. It’s sort of fascinating how their approaches diverge. One fighting crime while the other causes it.
Everything about Callum fascinates me. Since I was a teenager, he’s been pulling me deeper into his dark spider web. Tightening his web, seducing me, making me crave him without even realizing it.
Our footsteps echo off the polished floor as we take the familiar route to Tatum’s room. Almost as if she can read my mind about her father, she answers my question without me even having to ask.
“He’s working. Always working,” she whispers, “Said he had important stuff to do tonight. I doubt he’s even home yet.”
He always does. After lunch, he told Tatum he’d be home late, so she’s probably right. I can’t imagine the amount of work that goes into running an operation like Torrio Explosives. The business is legit on the surface, but the family’s mob dealings are shrouded in so many layers of protection there’s nothing for law enforcement to do but stand back and let him get away with it. Which is infuriating to my father.
Once we reach the bedroom, I help her into the attached bathroom and place her on the closed toilet lid so I can wash off her makeup. Her lids are half open, but she smiles up at me, probably thankful she won’t wake up with a streak of mascara on her cheek. “I don’t deserve you, B.”
“Don’t say that.” I pour some makeup remover on a cotton ball and swipe at her eye. “We deserve each other. That’s what friendship is, holding the other one’s hair back while they’re vomiting.”
Her lips pull up into a sheepish smile. “No vomit tonight.”
I smile back and finish cleaning the makeup off her face. Then I help her change into pajamas and get her into bed before changing into my sleep shirt.
“It would be smart to eat something before you…” I pause with the granola bar in my hand and turn around to find her sleeping, her soft snores filling the room. I set the bar on the nightstand along with two Advil from the bathroom. Knowing I’d have to take care of her the way she’s taken care of me in the past kept me on the straight and narrow tonight. Unfortunately, it also meant having no excuse to obliterate my vague but persistent dissatisfaction with my boyfriend in the form of binge drinking.
With her asleep, I use the restroom, wash my face, and brush out my long, brunette waves. The only form of light is the moonlight streaming through the windows, and I let out a long breath. I crave the dark, of not knowing what’s hiding in it.
Tatum stirs when I climb in on the other side of the bed. “It’s just me,” I whisper.
“I know. I’m not that drunk.” She rolls to her side, facing me, bunching a pillow under her head. “I’m sorry.”
“For not being very drunk?”
“For giving you shit about Lucas. You’re right,” she admits with a sigh. “Kristoff isn’t much better. I don’t even think he likes me sometimes.”
It’s rare for her to let down her guard, and the fact she just confessed that out loud tells me it’s been weighing on her for a while.
“I’m sure he likes you,” I console, tucking hair behind her ear before patting her cheek. “What’s not to like about you?”
“You know what I mean. He goes from hot to cold out of nowhere. Sometimes… it’s like he’s two different people.” She bites her lip, her smooth brow creasing. “One minute, he’s sweet and affectionate, then out of nowhere, he treats me like I’m an inconvenience. He can be really mean, and I don’t understand it.”
Concern for her churns in my gut. “How long has this been going on?” Kristoff has always been very standoffish. Quiet, considerate, and almost perfect. But if he’s hurting her or treating her like shit, something needs to be done.