Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“I just need to take care of a few things.” Heath drank from his wine.
“That wasn’t what I asked,” Damien barked.
“Damien, chill,” I said, giving him the eye.
“Baby, it’s fine,” Heath said. “I told them I would. They have a right to ask.” He took another bite and swallowed. “Two weeks, probably. I can’t just drop everything right this second. I’m in the middle of something.”
Damien seemed satisfied by that answer and looked away.
This was not the kind of relationship I wanted them to have, but at least it was a start. They were in the same room, at the same table, eating together.
“What are you in the middle of?” Damien asked.
“Damien,” I snapped, knowing it was none of his business.
Heath answered without an attitude. “I’m hunting down a traitor.”
Damien shifted his gaze to him, as if he knew exactly what he was talking about. “Vox?”
“Yes,” he said between bites.
“You haven’t killed him yet?” Damien asked.
Heath kept the same stoic appearance. “He took off. Your conversation must have tipped him off.”
Damien sighed.
“I have to kill him before I leave,” Heath said. “I hope it won’t take that long.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Damien said. “So, after you leave, is the next Skull King going to come to my door and demand money?”
“Probably,” Heath said bluntly. “And I hope you learned your lesson…”
Damien looked away, visibly annoyed. “I should get going.” He rose to his feet and set his plate in the sink. “You’ve got a nice place, Heath. Let me know where you got your door.” He left without giving me a proper goodbye, taking the stairs to the front door.
Heath finished eating like nothing had happened.
“You’re home early.”
He chewed as he stared straight ahead, his mood suddenly turning sour. He finished the last bite then abruptly left the table and stepped into the kitchen. His shoulders were tight with anger, his entire body fuming.
I got to my feet and joined him at the sink. “I didn’t think it would be a problem having him over—”
“Where’s your ring?” He stared at the pile of dishes at the bottom of the sink as the water ran. He watched the bits of food and sauce wash away down the drain at the center before he slammed his fist onto the lever, stopping the water.
I tensed at the question, feeling the large ring stuffed in my pocket.
He turned toward me, looking down at me with a potent look of disappointment. “Either wear it, or don’t wear it. But stop going back and forth.” He pivoted his large body toward me, towering over my small stature. “I didn’t drop two hundred grand for you to shove it in your goddamn pocket.”
Guilt washed over me when I saw how much I’d hurt him.
“You’re either with me, or you aren’t. Choose.”
“I just didn’t want my brother to find out like—”
“Then tell him. Or don’t wear it. That fucking simple.” He walked past me.
I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back to me. “Heath, I’m sorry. I’m not embarrassed of you. I’m not unsure if I want to marry you. I just…don’t want to announce it that way.”
“Isn’t that how women announce they’re engaged? Walking into a room with a diamond on their hand?” He looked down at me with annoyance, like all he wanted to do was go upstairs to his gym and work out for a few hours. He didn’t want to spend his time with me, even though he always wanted to spend his time with me.
“I thought my father said you couldn’t marry me until you quit—”
“Yes. Never said I couldn’t give you a fat ring and ask you to marry me. I already asked his permission. He said I could have you if I do this—and I’m fucking doing it.” He came closer to me and held up his hand. “I don’t give a shit whether you want to wear the ring or not. But I do give a shit when you take it off the second someone comes around. It’s a commitment. You’re either in, or you aren’t. Fucking choose.” He turned away to head down the hallway.
“Heath?”
He sighed and turned around, like he wanted nothing to do with me.
I walked up to him as I fished the ring out of my pocket. I returned it to my finger—where it belonged. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
His eyes burned into mine, as if he was searching for my sincerity. “That means when we go over there on Christmas—”
“Yes, I’ll wear it.”
Now he didn’t look so angry, but he was still in a bad mood, so he walked away.
He’d just gotten home, so he probably wanted to take a shower first, kick back with a drink on the couch, decompress after all the shit he had to deal with all day, so I let him go—and let this go.