Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Jokes on me, though, right? Because he was fucking her behind my back the whole time.
Scrolling down farther, I see a picture of them together, his hand on her round belly as she holds up an ultrasound picture.
I want to vomit.
Looking at the date, I pause. That can’t be right. Can it?
It’s from four years ago. So after he gave me money and told me to fix the problem, he knocked up someone else.
Asshole.
Clicking on her profile, I see a picture of her with her son, and he’s wearing a little leather biker jacket.
What was so wrong with me that he chose to discard me like a piece of shit and have a baby with someone else?
Maybe I should have taken Dutton up on his offer to kill him.
I want to kill him. Make it so he can’t ever breathe again.
When I left Boston, I’d decided that when Bentley was old enough, if he wanted to know who his father was, I would help him find him. I just didn’t expect to find him now and so easily.
He always made me feel less than, and when I wouldn’t comply, he got physical.
I find it ironic that the man I’m currently fucking is entirely dominant. But I know without a doubt Dutton would never hurt me. He might disagree with my opinions, but he respects them because he respects me.
I was too naïve back then to understand that the kind of love Bobbi offered me wasn’t enough. I was just so desperate for any love or affection after my parents died that I was stupidly easy to mold.
Will he try to find me now?
A weight drops in my stomach.
If Waylon tells him I’m in Manhattan, how long would it take him to find me?
And what would he do if he did find me?
Thoughts of moving pop into my mind. I definitely don’t want to do that. Not now that Bentley is in school and making friends. And I have a stable job that can get us on the right path.
Bobbi told me to fix the problem and come back; I chose to leave and never return. I changed my phone number and didn’t have any family he could contact to find out where I was. So it worked. I got a clean slate. But, right now, it doesn’t feel so clean of a break.
I hear a car pull up out front, and I slam my laptop shut as if being caught doing something I shouldn’t be.
Bentley runs out of his room, squealing in excitement.
“Hey, put some pants on!” I yell after him.
“Dutton is here!” he shouts. I laugh as I quickly usher him to get dressed.
I open the door and lean against the jamb expectantly.
“Did your boss say you could finish for the day?” Dutton asks smugly as he walks up the stairs and onto the porch.
“It’s okay; my boss is more focused on his receding hairline than what I’m up to. As long as I make him money, he doesn’t seem to care.”
He comes to a stop in front of me with a smirk. “Those are fighting words, Mostriciattola.”
There’s that name again. I need to remember to google it later so I can find out what it means.
“Dutton!” Bentley screams as he runs down the hall. “Are we seeing Mr. Dawson today? Because you promised yesterday.”
“Hey, Bentley. We sure are. Are you ready?”
I laugh when I notice Bentley’s shirt is backward. “One second,” I say as I take off his shirt and put it on the right way. “He had mud all over him from school, so he had to have a bath. Let me get my handbag. Are you sure your father doesn’t mind if we visit him?”
“He’s looking forward to it. And he even rented a jump house for Bentley,” Dutton calls out.
I freeze as I grab my handbag, not sure I heard him correctly.
“Rented?” I ask, walking back into the entryway
Dutton shrugs as he says, “Well, they offered it to him for free.”
“Whoa, he gets things like that for free?” Bentley asks with wide eyes.
I roll my eyes as I usher them both out the door to lock it up. Bentley skips toward the car, and Dutton leans in close to me, making sure not to touch me. I appreciate that he respects my boundaries around Bentley, especially considering we haven’t yet had a proper discussion about whatever the fuck is happening between us.
“I appreciate the photo you sent me today,” he purrs in my ear, and warmth floods my pussy. “I was in the middle of a meeting and couldn’t stand up to offer the rest of my presentation because of how fucking hard I was.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “You asked for it.”
“When did you become so obedient?”
“When did you become so charming?” I shoot back with an arched eyebrow.