Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
We drive around town as the sun rises. I yawn and lean my head against the window. Not to sleep but to rest. This entire night has felt like it would never end. Now that it has, I don’t feel better. Destroying Novak’s house satisfied me in some ways but not enough in others.
“Home now?” Kai asks as we weave through the morning traffic.
I picture Val, asleep in our bed, her peach limbs splayed across the sheets, her riot of curls decorating my pillows. Even with that image, the rage burns a path inside my gut. I can’t go back until I quench this fire. “No, we can’t go back there yet. I need more time to get my head on straight so I don’t punish her in ways that might ruin us completely. Just keep driving. Or take me somewhere to distract me. Something.”
He doesn’t ask questions, only keeps his eyes on the road and drives. His ability to know when to speak and when to shut up is always something I’ve admired about him.
I scrub my hand around the stubble on my jaw and then up through the mess of my hair. With a few swipes of my fingers, I set it in some kind of order. My knuckles are still bloody and broken from the fight with Kai and my rampage around my room.
Shame gurgles in my gut to join the anger there. I could have hurt her last night with all the glass flying around. Even when I want to hate her, I can only think of her safety. Dammit.
The car stops, and I glance out the window. Even in the morning, the lights of the casino are a brightly lit beacon to the decadent and depraved.
I don’t feel decadent today… but maybe a little depravity will set me right. At the very least, it’ll take my mind off my wife and the many sins she’s yet to confess.
13
VALENTINA
It’s been an hour since he stormed out. An hour since my words broke something between us. An hour since my life fluttered apart in my lap.
But it’s done. The only secret left between us is the life growing in my belly. Maybe after I’ve given him some time to calm down, the secret will turn into news… something joyful to share after so much misery and hate.
I toss and turn in the empty cold bed. More than my next breath, I want him back. To feel his fingers on my skin, his mouth on my throat, his deep voice whispering against my hair. I want us back.
Light breaks through the curtains on the bank of windows, and I sigh. Looks like I can’t even sleep properly without him here. When I sit up, my belly does a little flip-flop that leaves me bent over and queasy. Shit. Not again. Is it morning sickness, or have I just ruined my marriage before it really began sickness? Either way, I think I’m going to puke.
I race to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the rack on the way to the toilet. I manage to toss the lump of fabric on the tile before my knees hit a little too hard.
Leaning over the bowl, I heave. Every muscle in my body coils tight and releases. When it’s over, I’m panting, my hands gripping the edge of the toilet seat to keep myself upright.
When it happens again, I try to brace myself, but it’s little help. Once it passes, I lay my cheek on the seat too, all the energy sucked out of me. It’s so unsanitary, but I need the support so I don't flop onto the chilly tile. And I know the biting cold against my bare skin won’t be helpful.
I heave nothing but my pride into the bowl three more times before it seems to abate.
It hits me that I should eat something. I don’t even know how long it’s been since my last meal. When I first woke up, before my confrontation with Adrian, I planned to hunt down some food. After he left, all I could do was sink back into the bed and pray for sleep to take me away for a while.
Now, my body reminds me I’m an idiot and my baby needs food as much as I do. It takes me several tries to stand without my legs shaking. Then I have to face the minefield of our bedroom to reach the closet for clothes.
There’s glass everywhere, but I get to the closet without a scratch and grab one of his shirts to slip into. It skims my knees, and I stab my feet into a pair of slippers to complete the look for now. No one will be up yet, and even if they are, I doubt anyone will be brave enough to comment on my appearance. Not today. Not after Adrian’s rescue and my return.