Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
They hadn’t been wrong. Harris Empires was one of the biggest in the world, with so many different umbrella corporations. Corporations involving beauty, entertainment, media, as well as real estate and software.
I had a feeling Ivan wanted this marriage between myself and Freya because of her connections to the empire. Although, I already had my sources check, and so far, Harris didn’t love his daughter. He certainly didn’t like her, and none of his empire would come to her. At the moment, it wasn’t even equally divided between his two sons. No one knew who would inherit the Harris empire. I had a feeling with Ivan’s involvement, it might go to Freya.
Also, the world didn’t know that Harris had a cruel streak, and on the side loved to take female sex slaves. He paid a fortune for men to hunt down the women he wanted so he could use them as he saw fit.
The man had a list of problems longer than my fucking arm. He liked to hurt women. Rarely men. The guy was a fucking coward, and when I saw him dealing with Ivan, he was more than happy to just bow down and do what the fuck Ivan wanted.
From my first meeting with Harris, I fucking hated him. He had nothing to say about his daughter when questioned. It was like, to him, this was a done deal. His daughter was a medically proven virgin, untouched by any man. She was never found at parties. In fact, her picture was never in the paper, which I had a feeling Harris was responsible for. I thought he was just being cocky.
In fact, the reason Harris couldn’t answer a single fucking question about his daughter was because he didn’t know any of the fucking answers.
Freya was not what I imagined. To me, she was beautiful. Her thick brown hair was curled, and it fell around her and always looked so silky to the touch. She had not had any plastic surgery, although I was aware of her father wanting her to have some. Her brown eyes portrayed a kindness her father’s didn’t possess, and to Harris, his daughter was fucking boring.
One of the rooms upstairs in my home now housed not one, but two sewing machines, something called an overlocker, and there was a ton of fabric as well. I hadn’t been prepared for her hobby. So, I had no choice but to make that shit up with my bare hands. I expected Freya to hate it, but she had thrown her arms around my neck, hugged me tightly, and said thank you. I don’t recall a woman ever saying thank you for something I made. I made most of the furniture in my home. It was a little hobby of mine and what I liked to do to calm down. Some people liked to shoot at shit, me, I liked to make stuff. I’ve done a lot of killing in my lifetime, and I’m not looking to add to it.
I had seen she’d decorated the outside of the sewing room with a single quilt that had words, Sewing Room, on it. The fabric was pretty, that I couldn’t deny. She had very colorful tastes. Her other hobby was makeup. We currently had separate rooms, mainly because I refused to give any part of myself to this woman. I would not fall like the other Brigadiers.
I do not love my wife. Other than our wedding night, I hadn’t fucked her either.
Our wedding night had been a disaster. Never had I made a woman cry from having sex. I’m used to having women beg at my feet. I’ve also never been with a virgin, so it was all fucking new for me.
Which is why it surprised me that Freya hugged me and thanked me for making her sewing room. It hadn’t been hard for me to do. I felt so fucking bad for making her cry and bleed, that making her something seemed like the right thing to do. Freya didn’t have a lot of jewelry either. I noticed that while helping to lug all of her shit into my home.
My cell phone started to ring, and I had already turned away from the garden and made my way upstairs. I didn’t go to my room, but instead made a detour, turning to the right, and going toward one of the designated rooms for my wife. The first was her sewing room. She had attempted to use those stick-on hooks to hang her quilt from, but I changed that, installing a knife hook that wouldn’t slowly dislodge from the door. It also made it permanent. There was no way Ivan was going to let me kill my wife.
My wife was with me for life. There was no getting away from her, even if I wanted to.