Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I follow him down the stairs, curving around to the front of the house where the living room opens out to the back patio. The ocean opens out behind the house, spreading a turquoise blue backdrop.
“Am I supposed to? And where is Ruin?” I spin around with every intention of trying to find him. He was with us last night. He had to be here too, right?
“He’s at home.” He moves across the room and toward a bar cart that sits beside an old fireplace. The stench of old couches and aged walls is an obvious show for the age of the mansion, and if that wasn’t a giveaway, there’s a tense kind of atmosphere that’s stuck to the back of my throat. Almost as if the house is warning me that I shouldn’t be here.
Goose bumps rise on the back of my neck, and I touch it softly with one hand, putting my weight on my other foot. “Why am I here?”
His long fingers curl around a glass bottle as he removes the lid and gently pours amber liquid into a waiting glass. I almost don’t want to interrupt him, and right now I don’t. I try to take in everything I’m seeing. The dark hair that clearly only sees the sharp scissors of an expert barber, and the crisp suit that hugs the swell of his muscles to perfection. He is beautiful, truly, but that still doesn’t overtake the fact that this man has, I think, kidnapped me.
He takes long strides to the middle of the living room, and I watch as he flicks open the first three buttons of his suit shirt before lowering himself down onto the single leather sofa. It’s not until my eyes travel back to his that I notice him studying me intently.
My stomach coils and my cheeks burn. “Answer me, please…” I didn’t mean the words to come out so gentle, but it’s like everything has just crashed into me and I’ve realized the position I’m in. It has started.
He has kidnapped me.
He swirls the liquid around his glass, finally lowering his gaze to the movement before shifting back to me. “Cooper, Ruin, they’re all at home, as is everyone else who entered last night.” He brings the glass to his lips, again, his eyes never leaving mine. Bet he’s just like his drink. “You entered a game you didn’t know the rules to.”
My mouth opens and then closes. I know the words I want to say, but they won’t come out. “I didn’t really have a choice.”
His lip curls up one side and a deep snicker rumbles off his chest. “You did have a choice, Shiloh, and you chose to accept.”
I swallow, my fingers tingling. “What is this about?”
“Sit—” He points to the sofa opposite. “We need to have a chat.”
“Then can I leave?” I ask, rounding the sofa and slowly lowering myself down. He has all the cards in his hand, I know this. Best I can do is what I’m supposed to do. To help do that, I have to listen to what he has to say, even if I do keep getting distracted.
“Haven’t decided yet.” His brow kicks up in an arch. He waits a few seconds, and I wonder if he’s going to elaborate any more or if I’m going to have to ask yet another pointless question. “You asked if you’re playing The Game, and you are—but you won’t know the rules until you’re allowed to.” His leg spreads wider and the corner of my eye twitches. “There are three levels to The Game. In those levels, you will be given three tasks, with a test at the end to be able to move to the next. You can only fail one task for each level.”
My mouth opens to ask another question, but he shakes his head, and it slams closed.
“Every task will be completed here, with the test to be done…” He pauses, his head cocking to the side in a way that has the morning sun beaming through the back window and creating a shadow for his jaw. “…someplace else.” I follow the curve of his high cheekbones, and down past the pulsing vein on his neck.
“When do I get to go home?”
He shrugs. “Today.”
I launch off the sofa, ready to run.
“But remember, Shiloh…”
His words stop my footing before I have a chance to leave.
“One phone call, and your mom? Gone. Your best friend? Pig food. My patience?” The end of his sentence, his words are clearer, as if he followed me. I close my eyes when I feel his body so close to mine without so much as touching. “I have none.”
“What if I disobey?” I whisper, drilling holes into the large wooden door that is merely ten steps away.
“Do it.” He chuckles so deeply that it sets off goose bumps over my spine. “See what happens. I dare you.”