دانلود رمان انگلیسی “یک معامله‌ی جهنمی” – عاشقانه‌ی عروس‌های هیولایی

should be crying. After all, I was his best friend. The truth is, we were more like brothers. We were so young when we met that I don’t even remember the day. But Garrett Banks has always been the only constant in my life, so it would only make sense for me to shed buckets of tears at his funeral. But I can’t. When I glance over at his Cassandra, his gorgeous new, and quite pregnant wife, I’m too preoccupied with the odd circumstances of his death to feel anything other than bewildered curiosity. Of course, I am angry too. But that’s an emotion I am well-practiced at burying. The church is packed, everyone in their suits and dark dresses, almost all of whom are Garrett’s business associates. Other than Cassandra, I doubt anyone here knew him or loved him, like I did. His mother did, but she chose not to come to the service. It was all too much for her, and although I think I understand, her absence makes me sad. Just not sad enough to cry. As the minister drones on and on about Garrett’s accomplishments, I drift away. My mind replays the night before his wedding on a constant loop. We were both a little drunk. The evening had been jam-packed with a formal rehearsal dinner where we all downed a lot of expensive wine, followed by a smaller group of us guys hopping around from bar to bar for several hours to celebrate his last night as a free agent. We behaved ourselves, which I found a little disappointing. Maybe as the designated best man, I should have ordered a stripper-gram to show up in his penthouse, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’ve always thought the whole bachelor party thing was borderline disgusting. He didn’t seem to mind the fully clothed conclusion to the evening. At least he never complained. It was around two in the morning when the last guests stumbled out, leaving the two of us on the balcony, finishing our cigars. My buzz was finally subsiding, and I stared out over the New York City skyline, in awe of how far we had both come. “Can you believe all of this?” He snorts and puts out the cigar in his whisky glass and nods. “We’re definitely a long way from the Sliver.” Our old trailer park, crammed between two state highways and smack in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania, was a hell I was glad to escape. “Thanks to you. I was military-bound when you offered me the job. I owe you everything.” “It’s a shame it all comes with such a high price tag.” He runs a hand through his dark mop of hair, and his brow is furrowed.