Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“I married her off. I fixed the problem.”
“You should have broken that fucking asshole’s spine,” I snap in his face, getting angry now. Ronan knew what was happening to Brianne, and instead of stepping in, he took the coward’s route.
“I did what was best for my family. And now you’re going to jeopardize everything.”
“Like it or not, you’re as imperfect as I am, Ronan. And now we’re in this war together.”
Ronan’s eye twitches. He wants to fucking kill me, and a sick voice in the back of my mind wants him to try it. Come on, asshole, hit me. Give me a reason to hit you back. Give me a reason to hurt you.
Instead, he turns away. “I won’t back your play, but I won’t get in the way, either.”
“I doubt Dusan will care about that distinction.”
“I’ll worry about him.” Ronan shakes his head, shoulders hunched with anger and stress. “This is fucked, Julien. You know that, right?”
“Fucked or not, I’ll end the war fast.”
Ronan walks away, shaking his head as he barks commands at his people, instructing them to get everyone together, including the body of their dead friend. I have my soldiers help the best they can, and once the Irish are gone, I linger for long enough to get the cleanup organized.
“I want that truck found,” I tell Jean as I head back to my apartment and my Irish wife.
Jean nods grimly, but he doesn’t look like he thinks the prospects are good.
Chapter 16
Brianne
Ican tell something’s bothering Julien the next morning. He’s banging around the kitchen making breakfast and coffee while I stay hidden in my room, trying to work up the courage to go out there.
I’ve never lived anywhere but my father’s house. I’m not exactly upset about being in this gorgeous apartment—but it’s weird sharing it with a man I barely know. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, what the rules are, how I’m supposed to behave, and I find myself worrying for almost ten minutes before I work up the nerve to head out into the kitchen.
Julien’s sitting out on the balcony drinking coffee and taking on the phone. I pour myself coffee from the pot he made and make a little toast. Back home, I’d be cleaning up and getting ready for the day, but Julien’s place is spotless, and anyway I’m done acting like the maid. He can clean up after himself.
The door slides open as I finish eating while sitting at the little breakfast nook. Julien’s in a pair of joggers and a black t-shirt that clings to his muscular chest and arms. I stare at the tattoos on his skin—tattoos which end at his wrists and are easy to hide underneath a suit. They’re black and intricate, and I spot a jaguar, an old sailing ship, a snake coiled around a skull, a knife dripping with blood, a necklace of rocks that look just like tears.
“Good morning,” he says as he pauses and looks in at me. I squirm slightly as his eyes move up and down like he’s inspecting me. I’m in a simple long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and I know what he’s thinking right now. It’s too hot for sleeves, but I don’t want him looking at my bruises.
They’re already turning yellow, and in a few more days, they’ll be completely gone. Once they fade, I can start moving on.
I won’t have to worry about what I wear anymore.
“Morning,” I say and look away.
He gets himself more coffee in the kitchen but doesn’t return to the balcony. Instead, he sits across from me at the breakfast nook, his big legs and body taking up all the space. I feel small and trapped with him so close.
“Just so you know, the cleaners come twice a week. They’ll be here tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, yeah, okay. You have cleaners.” I let a laugh bubble out. “I guess I should’ve assumed that.”
He tilts his head. “You’re not going to scrub another shower. Not while you’re my wife.”
“Something wrong with cleaning bathrooms?”
“Only under threat of punishment.”
My jaw works. “Great, thanks for the reminder. Is that all?”
His expression softens, and I can tell he feels guilty for bringing up what he saw back at my dad’s house. “I want you to be at home here, that’s all. If there’s anything you need or want, make a list and I’ll have my people get it for you.”
I clear my throat. “Actually, there are, uh, toiletries and I didn’t get all my clothes—”
He takes his phone from his pocket. “I’ll have someone to pack up the rest of your room. Anything else?”
“No, that’s fine.”
He sends a quick text and nods to himself. “I want you to be comfortable, my wife.”
“Not calling me your pussycat anymore?”
“You made it clear you didn’t like that.” His lips curl into a smirk. “Besides, I like the sounds of wife better.” He stands and starts walking away, but my stupid mouth gets the better of me.