Any other woman would have, probably while throwing a few pieces of expensive statuary at my head. I wouldn’t have blamed her either. I’d been cruel, moments after she’d cried over her grandmother. What kind of man was I? Oh, that’s right. I was a blood-thirsty, heartless, ruthless bastard from the streets who’d fought and clawed my way out of them. I wasn’t going to forget my roots and play the role of Grace’s white knight. Not now, not ever. I might delude myself when I needed to come that she belonged to me. That when I had a gun in my hand and her behind me that I would die to keep her safe. But in the light of day, she was just a woman, and I was just a man surrounded by the scattered pieces of a family who barely even acknowledged me and a company that I’d sacrificed everything for to create. I wouldn’t be diverted again. When she came downstairs around lunchtime in just a short silky robe with her hair loose and wet from the shower—apparently she enjoyed bathing more than once a day—I didn’t even look away from the financial reports scrolling on the TV.
What do You think about The Boss Vol. 4 (The Boss #4)?
