Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
And I’m not sure how I’m feeling about it at the moment.
“Okay. I’ll let you go,” I say.
“I got a message that on Tuesday, some people are coming to clear out your things. I’m… I’m guessing on some of the things we bought together about whether you’ll want them or not. If something doesn’t get to you that you do want, please just… tell him to get word to me.”
I numbly nod, then belatedly say, “Okay.”
“Take care of yourself, Chloe.”
“You, too.” I press end then pull my lips tight and fill my lungs with air before I slowly let it out.
I slip into the other app in the folder with my name on it and see it’s tracking my location on a screen that uses the street maps app.
I turn my phone off. I refresh the app. It still shows my location. I do it a couple more times in case there’s a delay. This means I have to pull my SIM card if I run from Derek.
Noise has me looking over my shoulder and Derek is in the doorway, wearing just a pair of dark sweatpants. His eyes are sleepy, sexy, but shifting to suspicious as I’m caught red handed holding both my phone and his.
He comes over and holds his hand out. I hand it over.
“What were you doing?” he asks, eyes a little cold.
“Adam’s grandmother is dying. She had a heart attack after finding out her son died in prison.”
His expression does not change. I don’t know if he’s responsible or not, so I ask.
“Are you responsible for that?”
“What if I am?”
I shoot to my feet and lean forward aggressively.
“If you are, then you,” I stab my index finger toward him, “are responsible for Adam’s grandmother having a heart attack and being brain dead and about to have life support pulled.”
“If I pulled strings to end the life of a predator of children who would never have gotten out of prison to see the light of day, would that make me responsible for the predator’s mother’s reaction?”
“It might not make you responsible, but if you don’t feel even a little bit bad about it, you’re an asshole,” I snap.
“Where ending the life of a waste of space pedophile is concerned, I’d be happy to be the asshole. Saves the taxes we spend to keep him clothed and fed. Where you’re concerned? I’m an asshole for very specific reasons and expected outcomes.”
“If a woman is dying because you interfered where you shouldn’t have, you’re worse than an asshole,” I fire back. “A cold-hearted sociopath, maybe.”
He swipes his phone and looks at something, answering, “Probably. But maybe certain people need to know how serious I am. Certain people who aren’t supposed to fuckin’ speak to you.”
He can obviously see I just phoned Adam on his phone.
“I called him,” I snap. “He didn’t call me.”
Pressing his finger to the screen, he wanders off.
A moment later, still curled in a ball on the couch, I hear his voice, which grows louder as he comes back and stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Me having to stop on a Sunday afternoon and call you to tell you this is inconvenient. Inconveniences irritate me. Remember that.” He’s back in front of me now, ending the call. His eyes slide up from his screen to my face. "That was your ex. He’s been informed that if you contact him again and he doesn’t immediately hang up, he'll be strung from some rafters by his ankles while watching me make you come until you pass out. You don’t even wanna know what happens if he contacts you. Though you seemed to be growing weary of my vague threats. Would you like some explicit detail of this threat?”
“No,” I whisper.
“I ran you a bath if you’re interested. I’m gonna go use the den on the main floor to get a few things done for the clubs. Thinking you’d want the upstairs library as your office with all those bookshelves. Yeah?”
I don’t answer.
“I’ll make dinner around seven,” he says expectantly.
“If I’m hungry, I’ll get something for myself,” I reply.
His eyes sweep over me and then he shrugs. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
I curl up on the comfy couch, put my head on the arm, and stare out the window at trees that I know will, after this winter is over, be covered in blossoms. Beautiful pink and white ones.
And I wonder where I’ll be then. Here? Or will I have gotten away from my stalker? I wonder how I’ll feel about the outcome of however this goes. When those tree blossoms bloom, will I be with Derek, fighting for my freedom? Will I be alone and free of him? And will I be better or worse off than I am at this very minute?