Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
But truthfully? I didn’t want to tell her because I knew she would hate the idea … and that it would only drive her further away from me.
That is the sin I have to carry.
The pain is easy. But this? This is on another level entirely.
I sigh out loud and sink back into my comfy chair in my study, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. Now that I’m finally home again, much needs to be done. Several more emails and calls have apparently come through from rich clients wishing to dump their family members on our doorsteps for some silly mistake. I’m not surprised, but we must draw a line between who is sincerely sorry and who is actually a sinner.
I cannot accept just anyone. They have to truly do something evil in order to end up here. Which I guess is why Amelia found it so hard to come to terms with the fact that many of these women are here out of their own free will. They know what they’ve done is terrible, and their only other options are jail … or death.
Being here, getting punished for their sins, is the easy way out.
Not for everyone, though. No, some would choose death over suffering. Many of them are men, most of whom we keep somewhere else, separate from the women. We don’t take on a lot of them, as they usually end up dead instead of redeemed. Most of them deserve it too.
Not that I bother to care about any of the sinners. Not anyone … except that one girl I happened to choose myself.
That one girl who caught my eye when I saw her out there on the streets, looking as perfect as I remember her being when I first saw her at my mother’s funeral.
That one girl who was hiding behind a mountain of grief, punishing herself over and over, even though none of it was her fault. That girl who committed the most ungodly of crimes simply because she needed an escape.
And I realized then and there that we were not so different after all. In fact, I believe we were made for each other. If only she could see it.
I twist around a coin with my fingers that I’ve been using to distract me from the constant thoughts of Amelia swirling through my head. But it’s obviously not working, so I clutch it hard and smack it on the table. Heads or tails … the first will decide if I go.
And lo and behold … of course, it’s the head that shows.
A smirk forms on my face. Guess I’ll go and face my demons, just as she has done to hers.
I march out of my study and head straight for her room. The room is unlocked, so no need to shove a key inside. Yet despite the freedom it’s given her, she refuses to leave her room.
I open the door and pause. “Can I come in?”
It takes her a while to respond. “Why do you ask? It’s your house.”
“Because I respect your needs,” I say.
Suddenly, the door is torn away from me. There she is, right in front of me, cocking her head at me with a certain clarity in her eyes that I can only describe as riveting.
“Really? You? Respecting my needs?” She snorts and shakes her head, then attempts to shut the door again, but my foot is already inside. “It means nothing to me.”
She walks off and sits down on her bed with her arms crossed in a very defiant way that makes me want to grab her and fuck her senseless. I don’t think she meant for that to happen, and I think she can see it in the way I look at her because she immediately puts her hands down on the bedding again, her skin flushing with heat.
“Stop,” she says.
“Stop what?” I say as I enter the room and close the door behind me.
“Stop looking at me like that. Like I’m … some kind of delicious snack.”
I stand in front of her and tip up her chin with my index finger to make her look at me. “I cannot stop looking at you without losing myself …”
Her eyes are full of melancholy and something else … regret.
Regret she ever came with me?
Or regret she has feelings?
I swallow and sit down beside her on her bed. Her scooting away from me only confirms my worst thoughts.
“I don’t want you to hate me,” I say.
“Too late,” she says.
Her words sting like a knife straight to the heart.
“Is there no part of you that can see past that?” I ask, looking into her eyes with full sincerity. “Could you ever love a man like me?”
“Love can’t be taken. It can’t be claimed. It can only be given,” she says, and then she looks away, taking my heart along with her gaze.