Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 151430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
“That’s not why you just kicked your own door in!” Nick hisses. “At least be honest. Be honest with her if you won’t be with me.”
God, when did my little brother grow a brain? It scares me.
“You’ve got Grayson’s number, tell him to call somebody to fix this mess.” I pull my jacket up over my face to miss the jagged glass bits still hanging around the edges and pound the floor to my bedroom.
Paige isn’t there, and she’s not in the guest suite either.
I tread back to my room and open the closet door. A few of her outfits are still hanging up, but most of her clothes are gone.
She’s left me.
Just like my parents did.
No, this is different.
She didn’t leave because she doesn’t love me enough. She left because I practically told her to her face that I don’t love her, and never will.
Because I was no better than that frat boy dick-wit who stabbed her in the heart years ago, and now I may have just bled the last sweetness out of her.
I told her I have a heart of stone.
I lied like the lying bastard liar of a Wardhole I am. I’d might as well have kicked her heart to pieces rather than the door.
She can’t leave.
I need her in my home. I need her in my life. I need her because—because I just do.
With a gnarled breath in my lungs, I rush to the front room just in time to catch the tail end of her lavender suitcase going out the door. My shoes squeak on the tile and I almost fall in my mad rush to catch her.
“Paige. Paige, wait!” My voice doesn’t even sound human. More like a hundred-year storm.
Maybe I should just let it go.
This way she’s not mixed up with my dysfunctional family. She doesn’t have to lie anymore. She doesn’t have to sink to my hell-bound debauchery.
But can I really leave it like this and still have a pulse? And what about Winthrope?
Taking a fierce, deep, soul-ripping breath, I follow her into the hall and chase after us.
25
Done Dirty (Paige)
His front door slaps shut behind me and I’m thankful for the barrier between us.
Tears roll down my cheeks like an avalanche. I wheel my suitcase to the wall and pause to catch my breath, collecting my thoughts.
Will I ever learn? It’s just like Austin. No, it’s worse.
I was the effing placeholder. Again.
And this time, I can’t even blame him. At least he was honest about his intent to use me from the start. He just wanted a prop for a business deal. I agreed to be his cardboard cutout for over a million bucks and was stupid enough to get swept up in a lie.
How many idiot awards do I win?
But it’s not all my fault.
Why deliver the kisses, the caresses, the sunshine looks that made me trust make-believe?
Why make love to me every night and then hold me and ask me to stay in his room?
Why?
Because I was convenient. Good enough for now, but not forever.
Duh. Not marriage material for a Brandt.
The glassy tears staining my face won’t stop. I collapse to the floor, fold my face into my hands, and sob.
“Paige.”
His voice is so infuriatingly calm I swear it’s in my head. He couldn’t have found someone to let him in this fast anyway—I locked the door intentionally—and even if he did, it’s not like he cares.
Great. So now I’m having Wardhole hallucinations?
My sobs become painful spasms.
But a strong arm hooks around my waist and lifts me to my feet. Ward’s familiar hand is under my eye, gently wiping at my tears.
I’m too stunned to speak.
“I’m so sorry you had to hear that, Paige. There are no words,” he begins slowly. “I never wanted things to end. Not in this horrid, messy way. You’re a brilliant woman, and I respect your work. If it weren’t for the contract, the whole damned situation, I would’ve told you sooner—”
“Screw you and your contract,” I say, my voice hitched.
“Paige—”
Nope. Not doing this. The instant he says my name, I’m straining against him, and my nails accidentally rake his arm.
He stumbles back, his eyes like dusk, gazing in shock at the two thin red lines I’ve left on his arm.
“I...I didn’t mean to,” I whisper, the endless tears assaulting me again. “Just stay away! We’ve only got a few weeks left if it’s your stupid arrangement you’re worried about.”
He stares at me slowly and nods, his face sinking like he finally gets it.
“Fair enough. You’ll get your money. I promise.”
He looks damaged. Whipped. Raw.
If I weren’t even more torn up inside, I might feel bad for him, but I steel myself for the madness on the tip of my tongue.
“Screw the money, too. Just let me go. I don’t want this anymore.” My eyes pinch together. I wanted to say you instead of this, but lying doesn’t come easy to me.