Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
All his life, he’d been good at saying and doing the right thing. At the snap of his fingers, women would fall for him. He didn’t have to try hard to get pussy.
When it came to his wife, he failed at every point. Their wedding night was a complete and total disaster. She’d been a virgin, and she had been stiff, and he’d not been patient. Each time after then, he took her, knowing they had to make a baby as part of the agreement—the business deal. Work and duty had clouded his fucking judgment.
He wanted to reach Clarissa. For the first time in his life, he wanted to try to get to know a woman, and at that damn party a year ago, all of his frustrations had come out. The men each had something to say, so he joined in. He fucking followed the crowd, and since then, he’d been paying the price. There had only been two times that Clarissa showed him any kind of affection, and both of those times, she’d been drunk. He would have left any other woman to deal with herself. Not Clarissa, he was there as she vomited both times. She always said she wouldn’t drink, but part of him liked her attention when she was drunk. The sickness always sucked, and in the morning she would apologize, and she’d sink deep into herself.
Pulling away from the door, he made his way down to his office and poured himself a whiskey. Not that it was going to help him. A whiskey never helped. It only ever made things worse.
He was not supposed to care about his wife. The moment Clarissa walked down that aisle, he had never looked at anyone else. He belonged to her. But their marriage was not fucking easy.
Clarissa was right, though, he shouldn’t have said that shit to his friends, and he deeply regretted it. Now, he couldn’t take it back.
He drank the whiskey, but it didn’t do any good. Grabbing his keys, he walked out of his home. His guards knew what to do. There were only three people that would be able to help him with Clarissa. The ones who lived close enough for him were Mia and Giovanni, and he didn’t have any time to waste. The drive was long and he kept doing was replaying their argument over and over in his mind.
At least, Clarissa had actually taken the time to talk to him a little more. Usually, she didn’t even give him the time of day. From the moment they first met, she’d always been quiet. He figured that was just part of her personality. Now, he was starting to see there was a deeper, more painful reason why she was the way she was.
She had a lot of pain and trauma in her past, and he hadn’t exactly lessened it. On their wedding night, he’d not been patient, and rather than prolong her suffering, he’d done everything he could to end it as quickly as possible. That had been foolish of him.
Running a hand down his face, it had been one mistake after another with Clarissa. She wanted a divorce, had even asked for one. No one would grant it. This was a business deal. He didn’t know what her family had said, but in the past year, they’d not come running to her rescue. She had been left alone.
After several hours of driving, he arrived at Giovanni’s home. He passed the security checks, and even though it was a long time to get to his friend, it was better than staying at home in that fucking cold house.
He would only hear her crying in her fucking sewing room. Part of him hated her grandma for getting him to install it. The first time Clarissa arrived at his home, it had been awkward. The day after the wedding, there had been lots to deal with, and a honeymoon was a luxury he couldn’t take. Of course, he didn’t tell Clarissa that. However, he remembered the moment he showed her that freaking room. She’d been so happy and delighted, she threw her arms around him and thanked him. It was probably the first and only time she’d shown him any real emotion.
Giovanni was waiting for him as he pulled the car into “park.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Giovanni asked. “And without a phone call ahead.” His friend was smiling, though.
“Unfortunately, it is not you I’ve come to see, but your wife.”
“My wife?”
“Yes. I need to speak with Mia.” He was aware Mia was pregnant as Giovanni had become even more protective than normal.
It looked like the man before him wanted to refuse, however, they entered his home, and Giovanni took him to the main sitting room. Mia was wrapped up in a blanket, a movie played, and the moment she saw him, the smile on her face disappeared.