Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Tread lightly, Ash.” My voice is soft, but there’s no mistaking the warning in my tone. “It’s my wife you’re talking about.”
She raises her hands. “You asked for my advice.”
“Exactly.” I narrow my eyes. “Keep the judgment to yourself.”
“No judgment here,” she says, picking up her knife and fork. “You’re a decent guy when it comes to the things that matter. I’d hate to see you get hurt twice, that’s all.”
That’s what forgiveness is about. It’s about taking a risk and making yourself vulnerable. Trust Violet to make me vulnerable. I should’ve known from the start.
“Do you want to get a room for old time’s sake?” Ash asks.
My reply is curt. “No.”
“It honestly didn’t cross your mind when you called? Not even a little bit?”
“Not even once.”
“My loss.” She shrugs. “She’s a lucky girl.”
Violet will disagree with that. The thought sours my already sullen mood.
Unable to stomach the food, I abandon any manners I have and kick politeness to the gutter by walking out on the guest I invited for dinner. “Excuse me. You’ll have to finish dinner on your own.”
Ash doesn’t seem surprised. “That’s all right. I’m used to dining alone.”
Taking enough cash to settle the bill and more than double her fee from my wallet, I leave the money on the table. “Take care, Ash.”
“Thanks, Leon, but I’m not the one drowning in my own mess. Like I said, make sure you take care of yourself first.”
The hostess shoots me an alarmed look as I pass her on my way out.
“Sir,” she calls after me, running to catch up. “Is there something wrong with the food?” she asks, handing me my jacket.
“The food is fine,” I say, grabbing the jacket in a fist and pushing through the door into the night.
The problem seems to be me.
Keeping an eye on the dark corners of the parking lot, I pull on my jacket. Urgency compels me to walk faster. I get into the car and pull off too fast, burning the tires. A sudden need to get home makes me break the speed limit. I like my house, but I’ve never been in a rush to get there. The reason for my impatience has lavender eyes, a brilliant mind, a dirty imagination, and a sharp tongue.
Fuck, yes.
Going in a direction and heading toward something has never felt so right.
I floor the gas and skip a red light at a quiet intersection, making it to my place in record time. In too much of a hurry to even pull my car into the garage, I park on the curb and fumble with the remote and keys to unlock the pedestrian gate, the security gate, and finally the front door before I’m where I want to be most.
The lights are off, and the house is quiet. Violet must already be sleeping. I strip off my jacket on the way upstairs and pause on the doorstep. The bed is still made, the covers undisturbed. A sick feeling drops in my stomach, chilling me with disappointment and fear.
If she left me…
I swear I’ll chain her to my bed. I’ll clip her wings and put a lock on her cage.
If she fucking left me…
We’ll both regret what I’ll do to her when I find her.
CHAPTER 13
Violet
The bar in Bryanston is pumping. I’ve been here a couple of times with some of my classmates from university. Unlike other normal young people who know all the popular places for hanging out in town, this is the only place I know.
It’s sad, really.
But here I am, nursing a gin and tonic and hating every minute. The barman had a heavy hand with the gin, but the alcohol does nothing to dull my bruised feelings.
It’s jealousy, my heart whispers, but my mind stubbornly refuses to admit it. Seeing Leon with that blond bimbo in Oscars didn’t surprise me, so why does it hurt like hell? From how familiar they seemed with each other, they didn’t meet for the first time tonight. No, Leon didn’t pick her up from a street corner. She was dressed for the restaurant, the outfit carefully selected. He’d invited her after dumping me.
That son of a bitch.
I, on the other hand, am not dressed for the yuppie bar I find myself in. I was still wearing my T-shirt and jeans when I left the house. I still don’t know what had gotten into me or why I decided to drive to Oscars.
No.
That’s not true.
I drove there because of the way in which Leon had left. He’d looked not only disappointed but also disgusted. I was worried he’d gone out to get drunk again, but the suspicion in the back of my mind wouldn’t let me go. I should learn to trust my instinct. Like the blonde I saw tonight proved, it’s never wrong. Just like my mom predicted, Leon will sleep around. Why? Because that’s the way men like Gus and Leon operate. They’re not loyal or faithful. They marry for power, financial gain, obsession, or, in my case, for revenge. Never for love.