Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Nolan… I know that name. I can’t place it, though. Have I met him?
After we go up the small staircase to the third floor, we walk down long, carpeted hallways, the sounds of voices dying. My heart begins to beat faster. We’re secluded up here. And when we’re finally alone…
I can do this, I coach myself. I must do this.
We walk down the hallway and I note a small table holds a potted plant, green and vibrant, and on another table, a large bouquet of blooming white flowers fills the bowl. The fragrant scent wafts toward us as we hasten by. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a home for upstanding citizens.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” I ask. He doesn’t reply.
We pass doorway after doorway, my heart sinking the further we go away from the others. We’re so isolated here, so far from the others, we might as well be in our own country. No one will come to rescue me. No one will hear me if I scream.
He’s planned it this way.
Finally, he comes to a stop outside a large door. He releases my hand, and without looking at me, orders, “Stay right there.” I watch as he opens the door, before he reaches for my elbow and yanks me in again.
“I can walk myself,” I tell him. “For goodness sakes, stop yanking me around like I’m—”
My words die on my lips. I look around me in wonder.
This entire room is like the inside of a botanical garden, teeming with flowers and vases. Tulips and daises, roses and asters, a myriad of the most gorgeous flowers I’ve ever seen welcomes me home.
“Oh my,” I whisper.
“For Christ’s sake.” He rolls his eyes heavenward as he slams the door, then throws the deadbolt in place. “Leave it to Caitlin to plant a fucking garden.”
“Caitlin? The pretty, black-haired woman with the baby?”
“Aye.”
“You asked her to set up flowers?”
“Well, no,” he says, shrugging out of his suit coat and tossing it on a hook by the door. “I asked her to make it look presentable in here. Less...manly.”
“Well,” I say, reaching my fingers out to touch the silky petal of a crimson rose. “It certainly is.”
“This is our flat here,” he says, waving his hand around, and though he’s still being gruff, there’s a note of unmistakable pride in his voice. “You’ll see no kitchen, though. We eat our meals downstairs with my brothers.”
“I see.”
“But there’s a kettle.” A small dining area stands to the left, and behind it, a large, carpeted living room, shelves lined with books, a leather armchair, and comfortable-looking furniture. The black leather and dark wood accents give it a decidedly masculine air, but the flowers soften it.
“Your bags have been brought up,” he says. “But you’ll only be allowed very few garments.” He’s loosening the buttons at his neck as he leads me to the bedroom. “Come along.”
I look at him sharply. “Excuse me? What am I to do, walk around naked like a little sex kitten?”
He turns to me. “I like the fucking sound of that.”
I choke. “What?”
He snorts. “Relax. I only meant I don’t want you to wear the clothes you wore in the Martin clan. You’ll have new clothes here. I’ll pick them out.”
“Will you?”
“Aye.” If he notes the icy tone of my question, he doesn’t show it.
“For fuck’s sake.”
He’s pushed open the door to the bedroom, and this room is much like the entryway, laden with flowers.
“She changed the fucking duvet?” He looks with disgust at a floral and ivory coverlet on the huge bed.
“That’s the biggest bed I’ve ever seen in my life,” I say, before I can stop myself. “It’s like a cruise ship.”
“You may have noticed I’m a large man.”
The way he says it makes my heart make a sudden leap in my chest. Is he… is he a large man in every way? Will he hurt me?
“Cormac, I—” I freeze. It’s the first time I’ve ever said his name aloud. He turns to face me. Sunlight filters in from the window, illuminating his handsome face. He raises his eyebrows questioningly.
“I like the sound of that, too,” he says, his tone the softest I’ve heard from him yet.
I swallow hard. I’m not sure what to say to him, how to respond. My throat feels tight and my nerves are shot. I’m shaking. “Of what?” I finally whisper.
“When you say my name. I imagine you’ve called me all sorts of things in your head.”
Am I that transparent?
“But it’s the first time you’ve called me by name.”
I swallow again. “Aye. Wish I could say the same about your saying my name.” As soon as I say it, I wish I could take it back. “I—I’m sorry. My mouth has a way of getting ahead of my brain sometimes.”
His eyes harden, and I wonder if I imagined any softness. “I’ve noticed.” He unfastens the shirt again, like he did in the car ride here. “I want to take a shower. You’re to stay here in this room while I do. You may get out of that dress and wear the robe you’ll find in your closet. Rest, explore, I don’t much care what you do.”