Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Something in her words gave me pause. There was a knowing there. A knowing about a secret I hadn’t uttered to anyone because I was terrified.
But before I could say anything about her knowing, Wren stepped back, sucking in a heavy breath, straightening her spine and plastering on a smile so fake that it hurt my insides.
“You’re coming back right?” My voice was shaky, dreading her answer.
“Of course, I’m fucking coming back,” she scoffed. “It’s Nepal. Not exactly my natural habitat. I’m going for a vision quest. For an Eat, Pray find some fucking peace type experiment. Then I’ll come back. I’ll get more Botox. Plan a party. I’ll be me again.” She smiled, a more genuine one now but still saturated in sadness. “Even if I’m not me again, I’ll come back. For you, mon chéri. I’ll definitely be back within six months.” She winked once, leaned in to kiss my cheek once more and then she walked out the door.
I stood there, staring at the door, crying for a long time.
In the movies, underworld wars happened quickly. With explosions, blood and the good guy coming out on top. There were no good guys here, this was not a movie. Things didn’t happen like that, apparently. It was much slower but with no less blood.
Thankfully, none of it belonged to my husband.
Yet.
Jay was home late. He was always home late these days. Though I wasn’t alone. He ensured that there was always someone with me. Multiple someones. Multiple armed someones. Our home was like a fortress now. All of my movements were documented, all of my locations were tracked. It was stifling. Suffocating. But I knew there was no possibility of me trying to argue this. Not after what happened. I wasn’t stupid enough to argue. No, not now. Not with everything I had to protect.
Zoe and Yasmin came over often. Both were good enough friends not to mention the multiple, black clad, serious and dangerous looking men—and two women, thank God for female badasses, though I made a mental note to require that Jay have more female badasses in his employ—guarding the gate and constantly walking the perimeter. They didn’t ask questions either. They didn’t agree with this life, did not approve, but they were my girlfriends, the kind of friends who were like an old oak tree, unwavering, unyielding and with deep roots.
I was sure Zoe knew my secret, likely Yasmin, too, but they didn’t mention that either. Not with their words, at least. I did not miss the knowing looks, the raised eyebrows. I knew they were waiting for me to tell them. But there was no way I could until I told Jay. And there was no way I could tell him right now. Not when he was coming home late, immediately showering then fucking me into oblivion every night.
Tonight was different, though. I was sitting out on the balcony despite the chill in the air, staring out into the darkness, letting the salt settle on my cheeks.
He didn’t touch me when he came outside. He wasn’t doing that as often as he used to either. The casual, playful touches that I’d taken for granted before were dwindling, all the ground we’d gained was crumbling at our feet.
“Wren is gone,” I told him in a small voice. The waves almost drowned it out, but I knew Jay had heard me. A lot of things might’ve changed these past months—for the worse—but Jay still listened to me with a fervent intensity.
“I know,” he murmured.
Of course he knew.
He knew she’d left. Knew that it would’ve had this effect on me, knew I would be sitting here hurt and worried about my friend, yet he’d still come home late. I wondered how much of it was because of the blame he carried around with him over what happened to Wren and how much of it was the actual war he was having with the Russian Mob.
Jay stood behind me silently, both of us staring into the darkness. I waited for him to touch me, offer me more. I hungered for it. But he didn’t.
“Stella, come to bed,” he ordered, voice cold, commanding. I felt it between my legs despite my sorrow.
And, like always, I obeyed him.
It was after he’d fucked me in that way I loved. In that way that I hated. It was cold, hot, detached and too close all at the same time. It was Jay how he’d been before we truly became us yet a version of him that I’d never seen before.
Though my muscles burned and my body thrummed with satisfaction, parts of me were chilled with fear, worry. When he pulled out of me and rolled off the bed, he moved farther away. He didn’t even pull me into his chest afterward. In the past, he’d go into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth and clean me up gently, with reverence. By that point I was usually barely awake despite my fears.