Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“How do you know where I live anyway?”
He shoots me a look.
“Fine.” I rub my eyes. Maybe if I rub hard enough, I’ll see clearer. “If you know my address, how can you not know my fucking house number?”
“Shut up, Leon.”
“I have my keys, you know.”
“I don’t have time to argue with you. I left my wife and children alone at home to drag your sorry ass out of a dive bar.”
A pang of guilt pierces my chest at the mention of Lina and the kids.
The guard comes jogging out of the guardhouse with a clipboard to sign Damian in, which means he dialed the house and someone in the house gave him permission to let the visitor in. There’s only one person in my house.
Fuck.
“Mr. Leon.” The guard hands Damian the clipboard and a pen. “Did you lose your keys?”
“Something like that,” I mumble.
Damian signs himself in and explains that his driver is following with my car. Recognizing my car, the guard assures Damian he’ll let him through. Security is strict in these top-notch complexes. That’s why I pay an arm and a leg in levy fees.
When the guard opens the gates, I give Damian directions. As my luck will have it, my neighbors are awake, sitting outside on their porch swing.
Great. Why not give the neighborhood something to talk about?
My pedestrian gate stands open. The spotlights from the front garden shine through it. Violet stands barefoot on the pavement, dressed in a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt. A cardigan is draped around her shoulders, falling askew on her frame as if she pulled it on in a hurry.
Concern tightens my chest. She’ll catch a cold.
Damian doesn’t as much as blink at her presence. He’s always been good at keeping his thoughts concealed. Unlike Violet, who’s an open book for anyone who cares to look. Her expression is a mixture of apprehension and embarrassment.
Damian gets out and opens my door, all but hauling me to my feet. Violet comes forward, hovering there uncertainly, looking scared to touch me.
“He polished off a bottle of whiskey,” Damian says, keeping his voice down. “I better help him inside.”
“Okay.” She swallows. “Thanks.”
The man who drove my car hands Violet the key. “Shall I leave his car here or do you want me to pull it into the garage, ma’am?”
“Here is fine, thank you,” she says.
The woman from across the street runs over. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” Damian says.
“Do you need help?” The woman asks Violet, ignoring Damian. “Sam can give you a hand.”
“It’s all right, thank you,” Violet says.
My neighbor looks doubtful. “You know where to find me if you need us.”
“Thanks,” Violet says again, wiping away the hair the breeze is blowing into her face.
I want to reach out and hook that hair behind her ear, but Damian is already dragging me to the door, telling his man to wait outside.
“Upstairs,” Violet says, following behind us.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to shake Damian off and only ending up leaning heavier on him.
“Like hell you are,” he says under his breath.
In the bedroom, he dumps me on the bed. “Do you need a hand to undress him?”
“No,” she says. “I’ll manage. Thank you for driving him home.”
“I’m Damian, by the way.”
“I know. Leon’s brother. I recognized your face from the media photos.”
They’re having a fucking conversation like I’m not in the room, but the damn ceiling won’t stop spinning for long enough to make me string words into a sentence.
I turn my face. The room tilts. They’re shaking hands.
“And you are?” Damian asks after a beat.
“Oh.” Violet’s face turns scarlet red. “I’m Violet.” She rubs her palms on her thighs. “I’m, um, Leon’s wife.”
My brother’s only reaction is the slight twitch of his eyes. “In that case, congratulations is in order.”
She huffs a laugh. “He didn’t tell you.”
“Don’t take it personally,” Damian says. “We’re not that close.”
“This is…” Violet looks away. “Awkward.”
“You should come over.” Damian’s smile is stilted. “My wife wanted me to invite Leon for lunch. I’m sure she’d like to meet you.”
“Thanks,” Violet says, looking anywhere but at Damian.
“This weekend then.” He walks to the door. “Sunday.” Giving her another impersonal smile, he adds, “There’s no time like the present.”
With those words, he’s gone.
Violet disappears, going after him, presumably to see him out and lock the door.
My, “Don’t go,” is lost in the darkness, feeble words from a slain man, all because she makes me weak.
CHAPTER 9
Violet
Wow.
Leon didn’t tell his family he married me.
Why doesn’t that surprise me?
I don’t know what’s more humiliating, the fact that I’m not worth mentioning or what coming home drunk on your honeymoon implies.
Both are true. I’m not worth mentioning and Leon would rather get drunk than face me. I get that he hates me. I just didn’t want him to give such an impactful demonstration to the world. Call it pride, but it’s all I have left, all that prevents me from losing face and falling apart. It’s all I know how to do well. I know how to wear a mask and pretend. I don’t know how to be cut open in public for everyone to witness my shame. Even Gus only humiliates my mother in private. At least he grants her the pretense of respect in public, allowing her to always leave the house with her head held high.