Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“I love it,” I say, grinning like a maniac. I must’ve lost my mind at some point. All those saunas cooked my brain. No reasonable, rational person would want a ring like this. It’s a cursed object, a totally nightmarish symbol of a vicious and terrible soul-ruining act.
And I really do love it.
“I knew you would, sicko.” He pats my ass lovingly. “Now go get dressed. Wear something nice. I want to show you off.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“A Whelan place. We’ll have some privacy.”
“How’s that showing me off then?”
“It’s all about the entrance and the exit, baby.”
He’s absolutely right. It really is all about the entrance.
The restaurant is a trendy, high-end place called Dolce Vita. It’s filled with women in gaudy dresses and men in expensive suits. More than half the place stares as we’re taken to a table in the very back, tucked away from the main dining space, our own exclusive bubble.
“I thought you couldn’t get reservations here,” I whisper once the waitress pours our wine and leaves us with the menus.
“I told you, it’s a Whelan place. Get whatever you like.” He seems distracted. He sips his wine and glances off to the side like he’s looking for someone. I frown and scan the menu, but it’s hard to choose. Everything looks great.
In the end, I give up. “You order for both of us.” I sit back and drink my wine. “I’ll trust your judgment.”
He laughs softly, eyes coming back to meet mine. I like it when I have his full attention. There’s something heavy and addictive about it. His eyes move to my lips and down to my chest. The dress I’m wearing shows off a hint of cleavage, and I can tell he really likes it. I don’t normally dress like this—frankly, I couldn’t afford decent stuff before marrying him—but I feel like this was a particularly good purchase.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” he says smoothly and raises his glass. “I’m going to corrupt you.”
“Yeah, you think so? You’re going to corrupt my culinary tastes?”
“I’m going to corrupt some of your taste. I think I already have.”
I feel myself flush at the memory of fucking him, especially that night in the construction site. I don’t know why, but it was so cathartic. I needed him to tell me how ruined I am, how broken I am, and it felt so good that it didn’t scare him away. He still wanted me, even knowing how fucked up and rotten I am deep inside. If anything, he likes it.
Finn orders when the waitress returns and asks for another bottle. I smirk when she’s gone again. “Trying to get me drunk?”
“Now why would I want to do that?”
“If you think I’m easy when I drink, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Baby, I don’t need to get you drunk to fuck you.” He leans in close. I feel his foot brush mine under the table. “Besides, it’s more fun when you fight it.”
I laugh at his audacity, but he’s right. We both like the struggle, and in the end, we like it more when I finally give him what we both need.
“I thought we were here for business.”
“Why not flirt a little first?”
“I’m your wife. You don’t need to flirt with me.”
“You’re my wife. Flirting with you is practically all I want these days.”
“God, what a line.”
“I know, and you loved it. Look at you blushing.”
“Don’t be arrogant. Tell me about your plan before I get annoyed.”
He swirls his wine. I can tell he’s having a good time. I am too, actually. His smile isn’t a mask and mine isn’t either. For the first time in a while, it’s like we’re actually being ourselves, and it feels fantastic.
“Did you notice the massive electric generators they use?”
I shake my head. “I was too busy getting railed against a beam, remember?”
“Every night since, I remember in vivid detail,” he says fondly, sips his drink, and gestures at me with the glass. “But I’m talking about the big square boxes with the transformers coming out the top. They’re parked beside all the entrances and exits.”
I frown, trying to remember back to that night. I recall something like what he’s describing. “What can we do with those?”
“Generators malfunction. Sometimes they explode. All we have to do is make sure one goes off like a bomb.”
I chew my lip, thinking it over. The idea makes sense. I want to kill Redmond quickly and without making him suffer, so an explosion would probably do the trick. “But what about collateral damage?”
“The structure might have some problems, but nothing that can’t be repaired.”
“No, I mean, other people.”
“That’s the beauty. Redmond likes to tour the place after hours when it’s empty. We plant the bomb, wait for him to be alone, and blow it when he’s close enough to eat the explosion.”