Touch of Hate Read Online J.L. Beck, Cassandra Hallman

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
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“Happy birthday, sweetie,” she whispers into the shell of my ear.

I pull away, giving her a sad smile. The only people missing from the party are Ren’s parents and sister. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to come, as my father told me, but he thought it would be better if they didn’t.

As a group, we make our way to the large dining room that overlooks the gardens. My father, Quinton, Damon, and Ivan speak to each other in hushed voices while Tessa and I grab a bottle of champagne.

I fill the flutes all the way to the top, and we clink glasses before taking a drink. Tessa sips her champagne, but I can’t bring myself to be that ladylike.

I need some type of alcohol to numb the pain in my chest.

Bringing the flute to my lips, I tip it back and swallow the entire glass in two gulps. The bubbly wine slides down my throat with ease, and I grab the bottle and pour another. I can feel Tessa’s judgmental gaze, but I don’t care. It’s my birthday, after all.

I decide to sip on the second glass as I take my usual seat at the table. The table is smaller today.

It’s only been a few months since he disappeared, but tensions between my father and Roman, Ren’s father, have grown.

Everyone points fingers, and I know it’s only a matter of time before something bad happens. I frown and look at the missing spots at the table. Nothing will ever be the same again.

Luna and I can barely text without some type of controversy. I know everyone thinks she’s helping her brother or is in contact with him, but I’m not so sure. Ren loves his sister more than anything, but he wouldn’t drag her into the mess he made. I mean, I guess I thought he loved me, too, and look at the murky waters he dragged me through. I shrug and take another gulp of the champagne, letting the bubbles relax my tightening gut.

We move from conversation to dinner, and I space out for the majority of it. I love my family, but I’m not in the right headspace to handle all of this.

I can only fake so much. Even I have my limit.

Dinner is a birthday favorite, butternut squash ravioli cooked in a cream sauce with fresh bread sticks. Months ago, I’d have licked the dish clean, but now I can barely manage to push the food around with my fork, taking a bite here and there to appease my mother’s watchful eyes.

“If I’m forcing myself to eat this for you, then you better take a couple more bites of food.” Quinton spears a piece of ravioli on his fork and shoves it into his mouth. He grimaces, and I shake my head, a giggle escaping my lips.

“How can my big bad brother be offended by butternut squash?”

“I’m not offended by it. I just think it tastes like ass.”

“How do you know what ass tastes like?” I tilt my head and ask coyly.

Quinton smirks while Aspen’s cheeks turn a shade pinker. “That’s a conversation for another day, little sister.”

I love the way my brother loves his wife, the way he turns to her a moment later and presses his lips to her forehead.

His adoration for her is unmistakable. He would burn down the entire world to keep her in his arms.

“I don’t even want to know the details.” Tessa gags across the table.

She doesn’t have the slightest clue that ass-eating is the least of her worries with this family. I hope she never loses her innocent shine.

I force myself to take a couple more bites. The last thing I want is to make my parents or brother worry more about me.

Dinner passes smoothly, and a two-tier chocolate cake is brought out once the table is cleared. Chocolate and cake. Two of my favorite things on any normal day. But not today. I’m not sure what could possibly cheer me up, except maybe to go back in time and tell Ren not to do whatever he was doing.

Could I have convinced him to make a different choice?

I’m not so certain. Especially if I had no idea what his intent was. Ren was next-level secret. He only told you something when he wanted you to know it. Not sooner or later. When he was ready, he’d reveal himself. A lot like a predator watching his prey from afar, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

My father lights the candles on the cake, and I stare at all sixteen, the flames flickering as a slight breeze blows through the space. All eyes are on me as they sing “Happy Birthday.” There isn’t any point in trying to hide my somber feelings. Everyone feels the same way I do. They’re simply doing a better job at hiding it, which takes effort—effort that I do not have.



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