Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
When our dad died, Marianne acted out, which kept Mom’s attention on her. I was sad about our dad dying, but I kept it to myself, trying to be a help to Mom. Marianne demanded constant reinforcement that Mom loved her. As I grew older, I wondered if, at times, it drained my mother. I knew it certainly drained me, and Marianne’s demands for affection from me weren’t frequent. Usually only when she wanted something. It took me a while to figure out that pattern and to learn to say no.
When Mom passed four years ago, Marianne went off the rails. She acted as if the inheritance we received made her a millionaire and was unending. I bought this building and opened my diner. The rest I invested for my future. She blew it all on trips, shady deals, and, lately, a gambling addiction I suspected had grown larger than I knew, if today’s visit had been any indication. I knew if I cashed in my investment, I would never see a penny of it back, and for the first time, I refused her.
Then this morning, the mystery man had shown up again. Once again, his presence overtook the space he was in. He was dressed more casually today, his shirt sleeves rolled up, no suit jacket on, but still he was overwhelming without even trying.
He almost teased me about the cookie, but I wasn’t sure he knew how to tease. It was more a question. Why I added a fresh-made cookie to his bag of bagels, I had no idea. For all I knew, he was taking them home to feed his children. Although the thought of him being a father seemed ludicrous. He was cold and removed. Emotionless, almost. I highly doubted he was a doting father or husband. He questioned me about Marianne again, and when I asked him if he was the reason she was in trouble, he summed it up perfectly.
“Marianne is the reason she is in trouble,” he stated firmly.
Then he did the oddest thing. He tucked a business card into my pocket and told me to call him if I needed him. For anything.
I couldn’t imagine ever calling him. I rather hoped he wouldn’t come to the diner again. He made me edgy and tense. Yet when he left, I felt melancholy instead of relieved. It was very strange.
Still, for some reason after I showered, I slipped his card into the pocket of the loose shirt I changed into. I read his full name. Roman Costas. I had called him Mr. Roman, and he hadn’t corrected me. He probably couldn’t be bothered.
I ate my soup and rinsed the bowl and spoon, sitting on the sofa, making a list of things I needed to do. I heard footsteps on the stairs outside, and I sighed. I was sure I knew who they belonged to, and I braced myself for another argument with Marianne. Except the sound of heavier footsteps followed the lighter treads, and I frowned. Maybe it wasn’t her.
Except, it was her knock. Always impatient. Three sharp raps that sounded suspiciously like “let me in.” I always knew it was her.
Yet I was cautious before I opened the door. I looked through the peephole, confirming it was Marianne. I didn’t see anyone else. She looked angry.
“I’m not in the mood for an argument, Marianne.”
“I’m not here for one. I’m leaving town, and I wanted to say goodbye.”
I frowned, still hesitating. “Are you alone?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “Just open the damn door.”
Every instinct in me screamed not to believe her. “I heard two sets of steps,” I replied.
“My ride followed me partway. Making sure I didn’t trip. You can wait in the car,” she said to someone over her shoulder.
There were retreating steps, and I sighed in relief. I had been reading too much into this.
I opened the door, and she stepped in. But as I turned to follow her, pushing the door shut behind me, something stopped it. I spun around, but before I could do anything, a large man pushed his way inside. I stumbled back with a gasp, staring at Marianne.
“What’s going on?”
“You should have said yes.” Her eyes narrowed. “At least you’ll be useful to me. Finally.”
The man advanced, and fear shot through me as I saw the rope in his hands. I turned and ran, crying out as he grabbed my braid, jerking me back. I fought against him, clawing at whatever flesh I could find. He howled as my nails found purchase on his face, and he dropped me. I raced to the other side of the sofa, staring at him. Marianne leaned against the wall, looking bored.
“You’re only making it worse,” she said.
He lunged and I dodged, desperate to put space between us. I needed to get to my cell phone on the small dining table. He crashed into the side table, knocking over the reading lamp and sending it and my pile of books to the floor. I grabbed my phone, pushing buttons, hoping to hit emergency. He yanked it from my hands, grabbing my wrists and pulling me, my cell phone falling to the sofa. I crashed into him, lifting my knee to get his balls, but he moved too fast, spinning me. My leg knocked the other table, sending my knickknacks and purse to the floor. I fought, my terror building. I caught his face with my elbow. His groin with my foot. I struck out everywhere I could, knowing if he got me out of the apartment, I would never see it again. My life would be over.