Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Never once did he touch me in a way I didn’t want. Even before I would admit it out loud, he didn’t.
It seems like so long ago
How long have I been gone?
“What month is it?” I ask as I enter the wood-paneled room and step to where he is sitting behind the large oak desk.
“April.”
“And the day?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
Still standing, I walk to where he is. He swivels his chair so I can step between his legs.
He places his large hands around my thighs, holding me to him.
“Why, Sun?”
“I’m ready,” I say. There is no need to clarify what I’m asking for.
His hands drop from my thighs as though they are burned by a flame.
He’s quiet. The silence screams between us, ripping at my ears and begging for words. Any words.
A part of me knew that we were a foregone conclusion, I’d eventually have to deal with reality and find out why he’s holding me here, but another part hoped we could live in the bubble forever.
But the truth is, no matter what he answers, I need to know the truth, no matter what that truth does to me.
I step back and then look down at him.
He gives me a nod before he moves to stand, steps around me, and starts to walk out the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Outside.”
I follow him out of the office, down the hall, and into the grand foyer.
Once we are outside, he takes my hand, and I’m surprised by this gesture. He seems so far away and closed off. But still, I welcome the warmth it brings and follow him blindly.
It’s odd that I do.
Most wouldn’t follow their kidnapper.
Even though we have spent the past week entwined in each other’s arms, it doesn’t mean he won’t kill me now.
But I know he won’t.
But deep down in my heart, I know he would never hurt me, so I follow him through the trees and up the gravel terrain until the trees clear. We have walked some ways, and when I step out into the clearing, I’m not surprised we have come to the highest point of the island. I remember seeing the steep slope from the beach up when I tried to find a way off, but I never ventured this way.
From where we are standing, I can see the whole island, and I was right; there is no place to go.
The trees are too dense to land a plane, and if you were to jump . . .
I shake my head, not thinking of that.
I’m not sure why he’s brought me here, but I know it’s not for that.
“See over there?” He points into the distance. I look and see what appears to be a large mansion in the distance. That must have been where the lights were coming from.
“Where is that?”
“That’s my estate.” At his words, I turn toward him. That’s where he is when he is not with me. Why does he keep this place?
I have so many questions, but the truth is, those questions are about him, and this is about me. I don’t ask. Instead, I cock my head. “Why are you showing me your estate?” I ask.
“That’s where it all began. That’s why you’re here.” He gestures his hand to the ground beneath us. “Sit.”
I do as he asks, and when he sits beside me, I know whatever he is going to say will be bad.
“Every Friday night, I have a poker game,” he starts.
“I know.” I didn’t know it was every Friday, but I knew Trent went, and I knew it was often.
“The poker game is only one piece of who I am. Of what I do. See, I’m also a banker as you know.”
I nod, still not understanding what this has to do with me. “My clients . . . let’s just say not all are law-abiding citizens. Without going against their trust, some use the poker game for their needs. Cash is exchanged, dirty cash . . . for clean.”
Now I understand. A feeling of foreboding coursed down my spine as I think of my brother being involved with this, but I push it away.
Trent, who never does anything wrong.
“A few months ago, your brother came to my game, but this time, he wasn’t alone.”
My heart rate picks up.
The blood in my veins thumping just a little bit stronger.
“Who?” I ask.
“Your father.” He inhales deeply, and I can tell whatever he needs to say is weighing deeply on him. “This wasn’t their typical game. The guest of this game . . .” He trails off, and I want to cover my head with my hands. Close my ears.
“He placed a bet, and he lost.”
“What was the bet?”
“It’s not a what, but a who.”
I feel like the world is closing in as my mouth opens. “Who?”