Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
A door opens in the other room. It bangs against the wall like someone threw it wide. I stop, eyes popping open. A little smile flits across my lips. Footsteps coming toward me. The only person that would barge in like that is my husband, my very filthy, very doting husband. Lucky for him, I’m in a good mood. I wriggle slightly, grinning now. I wonder if I can seduce him, maybe get a little morning sex going.
I yank down my tank top and push up my tits. I think about fixing my hair, but hell, Evander doesn’t care about that. I’m blinking, sleepy and already turned on, when the door to the room opens.
And Sophia steps inside.
“What the fuck—” I say, sitting up and grabbing a pillow.
She closes the door behind her. The lock clicks into place.
Terror rips into my chest. What the hell is happening right now? How is she in here? Shouldn’t there be guards, alarms, something, anything?
She turns to face me, a wicked smile on her lips.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, looking around the room for something I can use.
A weapon.
Sophia’s in athletic clothes. Tight running top, yoga pants, and sneakers. She’s got a hat on, pulled down low over her face, and her hair is piled on her head, hidden under the cap. She comes closer, hands balled into fists.
“Do you have any idea what’s going to happen now?” she asks, speaking quietly. “Now that they’re dead? Now that your piece-of-shit husband is going to win the war?”
My brain races, trying to understand what’s happening here. “Sophia, I have no clue what you’re talking about, but we can figure it out together.”
“I don’t think so.” She walks to the foot of the bed. “I was thinking about you, Camille, about what you said to me in the garden about leaving. This morning I woke up and I thought to myself, I can run away, just like she did. I can run and never look back. I’d be happy, if only I could start over. If only I could forget about my murdered father and my murdered brother. If only I could be more like you.”
“It’s not too late for that,” I say, glancing to the side. If I grab the lamp, maybe I can use it to bash her in the face. There’s nothing in the nightstand, no guns, no knives, nothing like that. Evander said he’s all the protection I need.
Where’s my husband? Where are my guards?
“I can’t let it go.” She comes toward me fast, crossing the distance to the side of the bed. I try to crawl away, throwing myself onto Evander’s side, but she grabs my ankle and punches me hard in the back of the thigh. I grunt in pain and kick out, my heel connecting with her chest enough to shove her back. I roll forward and hit the floor, toppling back awkwardly, pinned against the wall, the bed between us.
My heart races wildly as I struggle to right myself. Fuck, fuck, what is she doing? What is she going to do to me? This is insane, I never imagined Sophia would do something like this and now, fuck, she’s coming.
She’s grinning as she walks toward me, and I realize I’m trapped.
“This is insane,” I say. “My guards are going to come the second I scream.”
“No, they won’t, because your husband sent them away, and he’s too busy getting you breakfast right now. Your loving, doting husband. Do you two even care about each other? Is anything between you real? Actually, don’t answer, because I don’t care. I’m going to hurt you the way he hurt me, and maybe that’ll teach him something. Then I suppose I’ll have to leave th city.”
She comes for me, running fast around the bed. I dive onto the mattress and scramble across, but she fakes me out. She leaps at me, and I kick again, trying to catch her, but she knocks my ankles aside as she slams an elbow down into my chest.
I grunt in agony as she pummels me hard. I try punching, scratching, I flail and finally a scream rips from my throat. I scream loud, as loud as I can, as Sophia hits me again and again in the face and arms and chest. Clearly someone taught her how to fight because each punch lands like a thunderclap, each one bringing fresh waves of pain. I can’t think, can’t move, I’m curled up in a ball trying to survive like I used to survive with Christopher. Go limp, don’t fight back, she’ll work it out of her system soon enough. Just survive, survive, keep breathing, survive—
But she’s not my ex-husband, and I don’t understand why she’s really here until she grabs a pillow and shoves it down over my face.