Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
"Okay, it's my friend. A girl."
"Mark?"
"Marks," I correct him. "It's a nickname, but it is a girl. Okay?" I thrust my hand out again, but he doesn't make a move to give me the phone back. Instead, I watch as he powers my phone off before slipping it into his back pocket. "I guess I can't have anything."
"You'll get your phone back. After I check into things."
"Please don't." I step toward Warren. "Leave her out of this. She's the only friend I have."
"It's my job to protect you. You've never met this friend. She could be anyone."
"How do you know I've never met her?"
Warren is quiet for a long second. "It would have had to have been years ago." Still not sure how he could be so sure about that, but whatever.
"Please don't do this. She's my only friend." I hate how pathetic I sound.
"Whose idea was it to sneak out?"
"I'm an adult."
"So it was hers." I clench my teeth. We stare at each other, neither of us saying a word. Warren is eerily still.
"Where were you tonight?" I turn the focus back on him.
“Working.”
“Really.” I snort. “Whatever. I’m going to bed. I have a shitty day in front of me tomorrow; I’ll need my rest for it.” I go to step past Warren, but he shifts, blocking my path off the dock.
“Tova.” He says my name so gently it is almost a whisper. I hate that it shakes my resolve. It’s stupid, and I know that, but I can’t stop it either. “If I were a better man, I’d let you go, but I’m not and I can’t.”
“Because of your father?” He was ordered to marry me.
“No, because of me.”
“What are you saying, Warren?”
“You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go. It won’t be good for anyone if you try to run.” I cock my head to the side, staring up at him.
“You’d chase me? Threaten my parents?”
“I’ll do whatever I have to.” He leans down closer so his eyes are level with mine. “Don’t put anything between us you care about.” My heart thumps in my chest. It’s not fear I’m feeling but something else I can’t name.
“You don’t want to marry me.”
“That’s what you think?”
“That’s what I know.”
“So naïve.” He reaches out to touch a piece of hair that escaped the messy bun I have on the top of my head. I smack his hand. His brows lift. I inhale sharply. I think I shocked us both.
“I might be naïve,” I agree. “But don’t touch me. You won’t answer my question about where you were tonight.”
“I told you I was working.”
“With whom?”
“My brothers.”
I huff a breath. “This is pointless.” I try to walk around him again, but once again, he stops me. This time he grips my shoulders. “You’re scaring me.”
“You’re lying. You’re not scared of me.”
“Everyone is scared of you,” I tell him, but he shouldn't need that reminder. I bet even his own father has some fear of him.
“You swat at my hand and demand answers to questions. You’re not scared of me,” he repeats.
“Maybe I just know you can’t leave any marks on me. Not with our wedding tomorrow.” Warren releases his hold on me, taking a step back as though my words were a physical slap to him.
“You think I’d hit you?” His expression is one of bewilderment. Do I think that?
“I don’t know what to think of you anymore, Warren. You confuse me.” No, I find it hard to believe that a man worried about my sunburn would lay a hand on me, but it’s also hard to believe that the same man that kissed that sunburn would disappear on me for days and then go and sleep with strippers, so what do I really know?
“Know that you’re mine. That I don’t want to ever hurt you.”
“You know some hurt is beyond physical.”
“I’m aware.” He says it as though he knows this fact but doesn’t quite understand it himself.
“Are you mine, Warren?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure about that? You didn’t belong to anyone else tonight?”
His brows pull together. “I was with my brothers tonight.”
“Working.” I roll my eyes. “Let me pass.”
“Do you know where I was this evening, little mouse?” I don’t respond because I realize the pile of crap I have now stepped in. I should have no clue where he was tonight or any night, for that matter. Warren was right. I shouldn't even ask.
“It’s the night before your wedding. I’ve heard stories about men and strip clubs or whatever.” I shrug my shoulders, trying to pretend I don’t care.
“I was at a brothel.” He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Bourbon Street.”
Marks had already told me, but hearing it from him hurts so much more. I try to push on his chest, but it’s useless. “Let me finish.”