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)
I had failed my mother and sister. Since then, I vowed I would never love another female. I loved my mother. She had given birth to me, raised me. Given me love and warmth when my father wanted nothing more than a brutal killing machine. My sister’s innocence had made her adorable. Seeing the world from my father’s side, watching her after a hard day, she had been the light in my life. I had vowed she would never know the harshness of life.
I had failed. So, I made sure I would never allow another woman to get into my heart. I would never love my wife. She was nothing more than a job.
Entering my garden toolshed, I grabbed the tape measure, along with the small notebook I used to gather measurements, and made my way back to her room.
“You do not sound fine. Tell me, how is your wife?”
“She’s busy. What do you want?” I asked.
I’d been warned that Ivan liked to meddle. So far, in the past month, he had kept his distance. I had a feeling he was currently working with The Butcher and The Beast in territory six, the one once run by the traitor.
He had yet to make a decision as to who was going to run that territory. It would not be divided between the five of us. Ivan would choose a winner soon enough, but The Butcher and The Beast were evenly matched. A man and a woman, ultimate killing machines. Deadly within their own right.
I don’t know the full details or what Ivan has on them, or why they are willing to take Ivan’s side. I don’t want to know. Some things were not meant for me to know.
“Can a man not call a friend?” Ivan asked.
“Yes, most men can call friends, the only problem is, you don’t always come with the friend code.”
“The friend code?” Ivan asked.
“Yeah, usually if a guy gets cold feet, a friend is there to drive the getaway car, not to take him to his fucking wedding,” I said.
I might have not wanted to get married. On my wedding day, I attempted to reason with Ivan about how bad of an idea it was. He refused to listen to reason, so I am now a married man.
And yet, I couldn’t get her crying out of my head. That night I didn’t console her. I fucked her, finished the job, and left. She had to clean everything else up. Did that make me an asshole? Absolutely, and that was the way I wanted it to be.
Women were weak. Apart from The Butcher. I would actually consider her one of the scariest women I know. The tales of what she had done, especially to Finn Byrne’s son, torturing him while the father watched. From what I had heard, she had cut off the man’s dick and literally fed it to him. Yeah, that shit was fucking scary. So, I was keeping a wide berth from that one.
“Trust me, if you stop being a pain in the ass, you might just see that your wife is in fact a nice one. I chose well for you.”
“I told you I didn’t want to get married, and you agreed,” I said. I put the phone on speaker, and placed it on her sewing desk, taking out my tape to measure the space next to her current fabric shelves. I took note of the width, length, and distance from the wall, so the shelves would match the ones I previously made. I hadn’t kept those measurements. With that in hand, I made my escape, grabbed my cell phone, and headed out.
“Actually, I did agree that it wasn’t the right time for you to get married. But, if you recall, we both agreed that when I found the right bride for you, you’d marry her.”
“I didn’t.”
“Okay, you might have been drunk when you agreed.”
This made me blow out a breath.
“You know what, this just confirms I need to come.”
“Wait? What?” I asked.
This couldn’t be happening. I did not want Ivan Volkov here in my home.
“You don’t need to come,” I said.
“That’s not true. I need to come and I’ll be bringing a plus-one as well. See you tomorrow.”
With that, I was in my garden shed, my cell phone had literally gone dead, and Ivan Volkov and his plus-one were heading to my home.
This is not what I wanted.
This would be a fucking disaster.
****
Freya
My husband hated me and did everything he could to avoid me. That was fine, as long as I was good and didn’t make waves or cause a fuss, I would be safe.
I’d never been involved in any of my father’s business. At twenty-five years old, I had lived a rather sheltered life. It kind of helped that I was a natural recluse and liked my own company. I didn’t make friends well.