Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
We stay locked together as we come down, both trembling, both gasping for breath. He rains kisses across my face, pouring his devotion, his adoration, down upon me.
"I love you so much, Naz," I breathe, cupping his face in my hands. "So damn much."
"I love you too, mi alma." He brushes his nose against mine, pulling me into his arms. "Always."
I close my eyes, listening to the wild thrum of his heartbeat beneath my ear. Reveling in the way he holds me so tightly, as if I'm something priceless, something he cherishes.
Tears prick my eyes, my bottom lip quivering. This is worth any price. He is. I'm not wrong about that. About him. I just wish my father could see it too, could see the way he loves me.
"He loves you, mi amor," Naz whispers as if reading my mind. He strokes his down my back, comforting, soothing. "He loves you."
"I know." I swallow hard, my throat burning. "But that doesn't mean he'll ever forgive me for choosing you."
"He will." He tips my head back, forcing me to look at him. His amber gaze is somber, glinting with determination. "I'll find a way to fix this for you, Brynna. Whatever it takes, little one. I promised you that you wouldn't be hurt. I intend to keep that promise."
I'm not sure how he intends to do that, but I hear the conviction in his voice, the absolute determination to keep his promise to me. I see it reflecting in his eyes.
And I let myself hope.
Chapter Thirteen
Naz
"Let me get this straight," I say, my eyes narrowed at Brynna. "I tell you that we can go anywhere, and this is where you choose?"
"Yes."
I stare at her for a long moment, fighting to urge to tell her I changed my mind. In the three days she's been with me, she hasn't asked for much. She's been quiet, withdrawn. The only time she comes alive is when I'm inside her, fucking my way into her soul, claiming it. The rest of the time, she's lost in her own mind, her own worries. I thought getting her out would get her mind off things.
I may have to draw a goddamn line in the sand here, though.
I flick my gaze out the window again, sizing up the line of people waiting outside. Most have their heads down, staring blearily at the ground, lost in their own worries, in their own fears and anxieties. None of them look like much of a threat, but…
"What the fuck are we doing here, little one?" I ask, genuinely mystified why she chose a soup kitchen of all places.
She glances over at me, quiet for a long moment, and then she sighs. "Do you know why my dad gives so much money away, Naz?"
"To hide the shit he does."
She shakes her head, smoothing a wrinkle in her skirt. "No," she whispers. "It's because, despite all his flaws, despite everything, he's Irish. And one thing we understand is what it's like to go without, to be forgotten, to go hungry, to have nothing. He doesn't give because he wants to hide who he is. He gives because, despite what he does, giving is part of who he is. It's in his blood." She shrugs, one shoulder bouncing. "I guess it's in mine too."
Well, fuck.
I kill the engine, resigning myself to the fact that I'm going to be spending the afternoon slinging soup. The god of war…doing fucking charity. Nicolas would lose his mind if he knew. But fuck it.
Better this than another afternoon questioning my own people. I've spent the last two days doing that bullshit, pouring through every name, looking through every piece of information. So far, we've found at least three with ties to Rojas. Three. And who knows how many more we'll find before we're done before we're done.
But I'm not sure any of the three I've ripped apart have been the one doling out my fucking secrets to Sullivan. They're enforcers, drug-runners. No one with enough information to make the kind of mess this prick is making of my empire.
"We can do something else," Brynna says softly. "I just thought maybe we could use a little time away from our own problems for once." Her shoulder bounces in a shrug. "And maybe a little good fortune."
My lips tip up at the corner as I reach across the console, stroking her cheek. "You believe in karma, mi alma?"
"What we do always comes back to us one way or another, Naz."
Fuck. Part of me really wishes I'd killed her father a year ago, the first time he snatched a company out from underneath me. She wouldn't feel the way she does now if I had. That guilty goddamn look wouldn't be stamped all over her perfect face.
Dio. What am I thinking? She'd be down two parents instead of one. And as someone who knows what the fuck that's like, as someone who knows exactly how it feels to lose a parent to violence and bloodshed and this world…I don't want it for her. Not even if the prick does deserve it for breaking her heart.