Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Hold on.” Sarah appears in front of me. She wipes her hands on her apron as she steps up behind me and raises the zipper to the back of my neck.
I’m a little surprised by her actions since I still think she doesn’t like me, though, I’m not sure why exactly.
“Thank you,” I tell her and watch her walk away without another word.
I look in the mirror. It’s a beautiful dress. Not as slinky as he usually gives me, and I catch myself swishing the skirt around as I stare in the mirror.
Fuck. I’m falling into his trap. No doubt this is part of his plan. Make me too comfortable, so comfortable I don’t want to leave, and then he has me forever.
Every time he listens when I say no. Each tender caress and compliment, all carefully designed to draw me out and push my guard down.
He carefully designed every step to ensure I forget… I’m his prey.
Suddenly, the bedroom walls close in on me, and I need to escape.
I keep the dress on and head out into the hallway. No one is around. Nic is likely in his office, working on whatever it is he does. I head toward the library but almost run into Soo as he comes around the corner, no doubt on his way to see Nic.
“Nice dress,” he says. “Aren’t you supposed to be staying in the room?”
I shrug. “I felt trapped in there. I just wanted to go to the library and find a book.”
He nods and studies me, his gaze scanning me from head to toe. I’m not sure what he’s hunting for, but after a moment, he drags his gaze back to my eyes and nods. “He certainly likes you in red.”
I noticed that. “What’s not to like?”
His laugh surprises me. “Indeed. It’s a lovely color, and you do it justice.”
As always, he toes the line of propriety and familiarity. Never wanting to walk too close to a point Nic might object to.
After that awkward encounter, I continue to the library, and he heads off toward Nic’s office. No doubt he will tell him I’ve left the room, so I probably only have a few solitary minutes to find a book and go back.
The hard part is I’m torn between following his orders, embracing the possibilities of what he is offering, and running as far and fast as possible. The conflict is the worst part. Every morning the uncertainty eats at me, gnawing on my gut, waiting for me to make my choice.
When I enter the library, a light breeze wafts in from the open balcony doors. I cross the room and stare out into the morning light. It smells like rain, a heavy ozone scent hanging in the air. It feels good to be outside, so I step further onto the patio until my toes meet the soft blades of grass.
I take another step, and then another, and before I can truly think about my actions, I’m racing across the grass, digging my toes into the soft earth. There are acres of lawns around his house, and I don’t see any fence lines or cars in the distance. I’d somehow made the choice, and now I don’t know where I’m going.
I’m one heavy exhale away from stopping, turning around, and going back when someone takes me down onto the lawn from behind. A tackle, but I land on top of Nic’s chest instead of on the ground. The air is knocked out of me, and I drag in a heavy inhale. It takes a moment to get my bearings, my head spinning from the jostling impact with his hard chest.
I shove up to straddle him, and his jaw is set, his eyes hard. “Where were you going to go?”
Instead of lying, I shrug. “I don’t know. It wasn’t really something I thought through that time. I walked outside, and then I kept going.”
He rolls us over, so I’m trapped under the heavy, solid weight of him. A weight I find more and more comfortable every time we end up in this position.
I’m bracing for his anger, for his harsh words, but he simply stares down at me. “You can’t leave.”
“I got that from the running tackle I just took,” I say, trying to soften my tone with a smile on the end.
He doesn’t give me anything in return but another hard look. “No, really. If you leave, I don’t know what would happen. Not only is it unsafe for you, but I don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t have you.”
I rub my fingers against his temple and meet his eyes, trying to discern what he is saying between the threats. I’m learning he gravitates to threats and violence when things get emotional for him. “You think someone will try to take me?”