Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 106948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
My stomach curdled as I recalled Judith gently explaining to me how Leo had been watching me for a year, taking his time to learn who I was and falling in love with me. Everyone was so damn eager to tell me how much he adored me, but it was too little too late. Maybe if he’d trusted me enough to be truthful from the beginning, I could forgive him. That is, if it wasn’t for the fact he’d brainwashed me. Hell, I’d forgiven him for being a sociopath and dispensing brutal justice, I could justify the killings he’d participated in because of the videos Judith had shown me. The people he’d killed really had been terrible, the scum of the earth in every way, and they deserved to die.
I, however, did not deserve to be made into some crazy man’s plaything.
Taking away someone’s free will, forcing me to love him, the thought that my emotions could be so easily manipulated, made me feel ill.
“You know,” Mark said as he pushed in a cart from the hallway, the amber in his light brown hair gleaming in the sunlight streaming into the bedroom, “he’s been a right fucking bastard this last week. If I didn’t love him like a brother, I would have put a bullet in him myself.”
“I wish you had,” I said with a growl.
“Awww, you don’t mean that.”
“I so do.” Lifting the lid on the tray, he revealed both frittatas and muffins, making my stomach howl like a beast. “No thanks, I’m not hungry.”
“Come on, you’re going to turn down food made for you by the man who saved your life?”
Glaring at him, I snatched one of the frittatas up and pretended I wasn’t having a mouth orgasm as I took a bit before saying through a mouthful of food, “Thank you.”
He calmly poured me a glass of juice. “You’re welcome, drink up. You look like shit.”
“Yeah, well, these last few weeks have been rough.” I snorted before taking a long drink of the tart juice.
“True.” We ate in silence for a little bit before Mark asked, “Did you ever remember where you first met Leo?”
“Yeah, at the diner.”
“Oh no, you met way before that. Around ten-ish years ago.”
I frowned, thinking back to the year when my sister had lingered, then died. “When?”
“At the hospital. You were there, in the waiting room, the night his mom was murdered in a drive-by shooting meant to kill Leo. You sat and talked with him while he waited to hear that she’d died.”
I gasped, a vague memory surfacing.
Holy shit, I remembered him.
Leo had looked different then. A lot leaner, almost gangly, with a spiky haircut and pierced eyebrow, with his shoulder tattoo fresh and black against his smaller biceps. I’d probably talked to hundreds of people in that waiting room, begging for someone to acknowledge I existed…but I remembered him.
“No fucking way.”
“Yes fucking way. Imagine his surprise when, one night, on a night when he needed you so badly, you appeared out of nowhere, in a diner of all places.”
Despite myself, I wanted Mark to continue. “Why didn’t he say anything?”
“I think he wanted you to remember on your own. And did you ever figure out what a huge coincidence it was that Leo has your exact taste in home decor?”
“What are you talking about?” I looked around the bedroom then back to Mark.
“I’d say you’re oblivious, but you have over five hundred ‘bedroom inspiration’ pictures on Pinterest so I’m not surprised you forgot about the image that inspired this room.”
“Wait—you’ve looked at my Pinterest boards?”
“Not me, but Leo has. He’s studied every one of those boards, trying to build you the perfect house, fill it with the perfect stuff, and do everything he could to make you happy. And don’t you dare say shit about him invading your social media privacy; you put all that crap up there for people to look at. Trust me, no guy who isn’t in love with you is going to give one ripe fart about your favorite kind of sandal. And he sure as hell wouldn’t make sure you have it in your size and favorite color, all because he spends time trying to figure out ways to make you happy. Those are the actions of a man who loves you.”
Frowning, I looked down at my plate to my poor muffin, which I’d picked away at until it was a pile of crumbs. “Whatever, it’s all a big lie anyways. None of this is real.”
“Man, you are a downer. Leo was right, you need to get laid.”
Pissed, I flicked a large piece of muffin at him, irritated when he easily batted it away. “That’s the last thing I need.”
“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“You’re irritating.” Not liking the easy way he’d charmed me into relaxation, I snapped, “Do you help Leo when he tortures people?”