Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“Mr. Morelli is waiting for you,” a man’s voice informs.
“I’ll be out in just a second.”
“Mr. Morelli doesn’t like to wait,” he says behind the closed door. “He is demanding your presence immediately.”
Pulling the dress over my head, slipping my feet into my black heels, I open the door with a smile. I haven’t taken the time to fix my hair or makeup, but I really don’t care. “Ready.”
The man doesn’t say anything but leads me to the study where I know I will stand or sit by Bryant’s side as nothing more than a piece of meat about to be sold to the buyer. Maybe tonight will be the night the final decisions are agreed upon and I’m handed over.
This all seems to be moving too quickly. I need time to breathe. Time to process. And some time to actually get to know this new family of mine. But it seems Bryant is a man of action and moves at a speed faster than expected.
My father is standing by the fire in the study when I walk in. I’m instantly reminded of my time with Nick in this exact same room the night of the Morelli party, but I push the image away as quickly as it comes. I need to pivot from my chaotic mind and center. I need to be on top of my game tonight. No thoughts of Nick Hudson allowed.
I clear the distance between us and stand next to him. Bryant glares at me, no doubt for making him wait. In a very low voice, he says, “Do not make me wait ever again. Remember that, or I will give you a reminder you won’t soon forget.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, biting back the flood of swear words that threaten to escape my lips.
His threats aren’t scaring me, but rather are pissing me off. I want the man to like me, respect me as he respects others in his family, but it’s taking everything in me to be… subservient to him.
“Have they arrived yet?” I ask, pointing out the obvious that I’m not late. No one is in the room yet besides us.
Bryant Morelli is impatient and clearly is a man who doesn’t like to wait on anyone. His jaw is locked, twitching as he glances at his gold watch. He’s remaining rooted in place next to me, but I can see him shift his weight from one foot to the other. There are plenty of beautiful leather chairs in the room, but I don’t dare take a seat. If Bryant is standing, then so am I. The only way I’m going to survive this night and survive being thrust into this new life is by taking my cues from others and mimicking them the best that I can. I’m also doing the best that I can to try to forget the last time I stood next to Bryant.
My thoughts go back to trying to defend his actions. Something I had to do for my mother my entire life.
Excuses. Excuses. Excuses. Always a reason to justify shitty behavior.
Maybe he was simply tired from the travel, as he did have to be involved in a forced auction and extortion of his bloodline. Any man would be tense and on the verge of breaking. Maybe I shouldn’t hold it against him for raising his hand to me. It could have been a reaction to a long nightmare that Bryant Morelli simply wanted to end.
Sarah enters with a glass of wine in her hand. Her long black cocktail dress drags behind her as her heels create an elegant cadence announcing her entrance. She exudes class and wealth, and I wonder if I’ll ever have that ability. Even though I’m wearing a dress, heels, and even ruby earrings Sasha bought for me, I can’t help but feel like an imposter. I feel that the name “Bailey” is branded on my forehead, and I’m never going to be thought of as a Morelli. I also feel as if everyone can tell that I’ve been poor all my life and cheap apartments or couch surfing is where I belong.
“And here I thought I’d be making an entrance,” Sarah says, scowling when she only sees Bryant and me standing in the room to greet her. “I see our guests are on a different time schedule than us.”
Her eyes are glossy and the glass of wine in her hand is clearly not the first one she drank this evening. I can’t say that I blame her, and I crave my own glass to try to soothe my nerves.
Bryant doesn’t say anything, and neither do I.
Sarah crosses the room and finds a high-back leather chair to sit in. Her motions are royal, and the minute she sits, she reminds me of a queen. I’m simply the pauper standing before her. I wish I had what she has… comfort in her own skin.