Ruckus (Sinners of Saint 2) - Page 88

“Yes, Daddy. He looks after me.” My jaw moved back and forth, every feminist cell in my body demanding I would put him in his place.

“Are you sure?”

“He packed my medicine and my supplies for me before we arrived here.” Biting my tongue to prevent myself from lashing out, I continued. “He sends me a taxi three times a week so I won’t miss my physiotherapy sessions. And comes with me to Dr. Hasting when he has the time.”

“When he has the time.” Daddy snorted, shaking his head. “Of course.”

“Paul,” my mother warned, looking down at the table.

“Yes, fine. I’m willing to talk to this man, but it changes nothing, Rose. We still want you here in Todos Santos. If you want your mama and me to stand behind you while you’re…doing whatever it is you’re doing in New York,” he waved his hand dismissively, but for the first time in the weeks since I’d visited here, didn’t look at me like I was unworthy of his time, “you gotta make some promises and changes to set our minds at ease. Because you are sick, Rosie-bug. And we’re worried. Everything we want and ask from you—is for your own benefit.”

Rosie-bug. Choking on my tears, I nodded.

Mama rolled her eyes. “Now can I please get a hug? This mama’s been missing her little girl.”

“And this future mama needs Rosie to make her kick-ass chocolate chip cookies,” Millie cooed, pinching my cheek and laughing.

I thought the worst part was behind me that morning.

I was wrong.

SOMETIMES LIFE IS A SNOWBALL and you have no way to stop it.

Sometimes you don’t even want to.

Everything moved fast. I had zero control over it. I wasn’t kidding when I told Trent you couldn’t prevent life from spiraling out of control. It just so happened that my chaos was drenched in mind-blowing sex.

Nina settled in New York. She called me every day. Every. Single. Goddamn. Day. I never answered.

It was ridiculous. It became even more ridiculous when one October day, right before I got out of the office to pick up Rosie so we could catch a Hugh Jackman movie (I still had my balls intact, thank you very much), I saw Nina waiting for me at the reception, clutching a damp, cheap coat to her chest. Her eyes were wide and, if I’m not mistaken, had huge-ass dollar signs in each pupil.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cole.” Sue rushed over to me, clasping her iPad and looking genuinely flustered for the first time in years. Nina had been trying to sneak into the building frequently, from what I’d heard, but my staff knew asses would be fired and people would pay if she stepped foot inside my domain. “I don’t know how she got past security downstairs. We’re in-between receptionists as you’re aware…”

Ignoring my PA, I walked to Nina. I was three inches away from her face, and my eyes burned their way into her soul when our bodies met. The kind of look that told her that next time she showed up at my office, she was getting out of it in the form of scattered body parts that would later be thrown into the Hudson.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“He wants to see you.” She thrust her body into mine. Pathetic. Her words caught me off guard, but I maintained my balance, not letting her manipulating games get to me. Now that I was looking—really paying attention—I noticed her clothes were tattered, and that bright pink lipstick she loved to wear so much was smeared all over her face. Such a fucking mess. She was using again.

“I mean it, Nina.” My voice relaxed, but my posture didn’t. “I don’t care. Tell him I don’t want to see him. Now get out. I’d hate to call security. We both know you can’t afford another arrest with your criminal record.”

That should have been the end of her, but it wasn’t.

Nina didn’t show up again in person—I think she knew I’d follow through with my threat—but started sending me things that belonged to him to gauge my reaction. To get me to cave in and answer her calls. A black Raiders cap, to show me that he, too, loved football. A plastic cup with Birmingham, Alabama plastered all over it. A pen. Whatever. Fuck. I didn’t want these things to taunt me, but they did. They did and I needed to get away from it all. I was reaching the breaking point that made you crumble.

The decision to go to Todos Santos wasn’t only about getting away from Nina. It was time everyone knew what my intentions were about Rosie. I was going to marry the fuck out of that chick, soon. By the end of that month, we were moving in together, officially.

I was diving headfirst into a messy reality, and I didn’t give two shits. I chained myself to her destiny, knowing how it was going to end. Rosie started every morning with gulping down a ton of pills and wearing that vest twice a day. Every other afternoon, she would go to physiotherapy. When we took strolls, she would stop and lean against a tree, out of breath, smiling apologetically as she clutched onto her side. My girlfriend was not well. She was never going to be well.

Tags: L.J. Shen Sinners of Saint Billionaire Romance
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