Imperfect Affections (Beauty in Imperfection #2) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Beauty in Imperfection Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
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I’m backed into a corner again, my stomach bottoming out with helpless anger. “You’re an asshole.”

He licks his cracked lips. “And your mother is a whore. So what?”

“Stop calling her that,” I say, my voice rising with the fury bubbling inside me.

“What’s the matter, Violet? Can’t face the truth? At least I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not. I wonder how my father is going to react when he finds out?”

“No,” I cry out, catching his sleeve. “What do you want? Money? Tell me.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Not money. No.” He narrows his eyes to slits. “Leon’s program has a second phase development.” His words wash like déjà vu over me when he says with a sly smile, “And you’re going to steal it for me.”

CHAPTER 22

Leon

On my way home after work, I pull off near the Grand Central Airport and park my bike on the wide shoulder of the road under a tree. I take off my helmet and cast a glance around to ensure I’m alone. Fields stretch out on both sides of the highway, but you never know. When I’m satisfied that no one is cutting through the field on an unlikely footpath or lurking in the bushes, I hang my helmet on the handlebar and shake out my hair. Using a burner phone, I dial Ian.

“Hey, bro,” he says, sounding upbeat. “It’s about time.”

I rest my foot on a rock and lean an elbow on my knee. “How’s life as a ghost?”

“Great, to be honest. It sure as hell beats paying taxes.”

I chuckle. “How’s Cas?”

“She’s doing well. The doctor came out last week. The tests are all looking good.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Tell her hi from me.”

“Will do.”

“How about the farm?”

“The farm is thriving. So are the staff. What about you? How’s married life treating you?”

“Remarkably well,” I admit.

“Are we going to meet her?” he asks, the words charged with a deeper meaning.

“I told her.”

“About me?”

“About me.”

“Being part of the gang,” he correctly concludes. “How did she take it?”

“Like a champ.”

“Good for you.”

Straightening, I kick a lump of dry soil into the ditch. “I’m not mentioning you yet. I’ll give it more time. Our marriage got off on a rocky start.”

“I trust your judgment.”

The noise of a plane taking off cuts through the sky. I wait for the sound to fade before I ask carefully, “Did you hear about Zoe?” I know how badly Ian and Cas wanted a baby.

“Yeah. The first little Belshaw in the family. That’s something else.”

“Are you still keen on going to Paris?”

A beat passes before he replies. “I am, but I haven’t shared the idea with Cas. We need to settle first. July or August when it’s summer in Europe should be a good time to go.”

“That gives you plenty of time to acclimatize to your new life. Will you see Zoe and the baby?”

“We’ll definitely work in a visit.” He scoffs. “If we pass Maxime’s strict safety measures. He’ll probably demand that we wear hazmat suits before he lets us anywhere near the baby.”

“Yeah. Damian filled me in. That Frenchman sure is a stickler for health measures when it comes to his offspring.”

“I take it you and Damian are spending time together. Good.”

“Lina invited us for lunch. I don’t think Damian would’ve extended an invitation on his own.”

“Give it time. It’s been a few years.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not holding my breath.” I check the time on my watch. “I better go.” I always adhere to the time limit to minimalize the risk of traceability on the call.

“It was good to hear from you. Take care in the big, bad city.”

“Take care in the wilderness.”

A laugh rumbles over the line as he ends the call.

I drop the phone and crush it under my boot before collecting the parts to dispose of at home. Suddenly eager to get to the house, I fit my helmet and get back on the road.

When I walk through the door a short, impatient while later, my wife is standing in the center of the lounge, pulling the edges of a cardigan tightly around her body.

My instinct goes on high alert. Something is wrong. I drop the helmet and my jacket on the nearest chair and walk to her with quick strides.

“What happened?” I ask, putting my hands on her shoulders.

She stares up at me with wide eyes. “Elliot came to see me at work.”

My fingers tighten involuntarily, my body gearing for violence. “What did he want?”

“He knows it was you who got rid of the photos.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Making a conscious effort to relax my grip, I brush my thumbs in soothing circles over her skin. “I told you I can take care of myself.”

“He has more evidence,” she blabbers. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve thought about it. I can’t believe I had such an oversight.” She slams her hand on her forehead. “How stupid of me. I should’ve—”


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