Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
A smile quirked his lips then a soft chuckle escaped. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“You’re laughing about this?”
“No, I’m imagining being the prodigal son who finally returns home.” Grinning at Henri, he pressed a button on a remote resting on the sheets. “New plan. I’m not going to call them. I’m going to see them.”
“Wait, what?” Henri frowned. “But you just said the doctors have a strict plan for your rehab.”
“Meh, I’m not gonna die just because I can’t use my arm. I’ll deal with that later. For now…I want to come back from the dead for my parents.”
“How about you wait a few days and—”
A nurse appeared. “You called, Mr Chauhan?”
“Yeah, I need to leave.”
“Leave?”
Grabbing me in a fierce hug as the nurse looked at him as if he was crazy, he whispered into my ear. “You told us we’d make it out, jaanu. I had my moments of doubt but…you did it.”
“We did it.”
“Thank you for making me hope.” He kissed my cheek. “I love you. I’ll come find you when I’m a bit stronger, and we’ll catch up properly, okay?”
Letting me go, he passed me back to Henri and held out his hand. “Master H.”
Henri’s face went black as he accepted the handshake. “Don’t even joke—”
Peter laughed. “Can you do me a favour and get your billionaire brother to summon a plane for me? I think it’s time I go home.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
………………………….
Henri
“WE CAN’T ACCEPT THIS…can we?” I fisted the key to the gatehouse, hesitating to cross the threshold.
Ily stood beside me. Her cheeks pink from the cold walk across the frozen meadow.
Somehow, in the mayhem of killing and healing, we’d missed the new year and slipped quickly into March.
I’d turned thirty while keeping vigil over Ily in a coma. She’d shared my birthday in her sleep. Just like in the dungeons when she’d admitted we shared the same day, my mind couldn’t comprehend the connections.
How had I found this woman?
How had I been lucky enough to love this woman?
How many years would it take for me to look at her with peace instead of heart-jolting shock that she was mine?
“I don’t know…he’s your brother.” Ily stepped past me, entering the gatehouse. “You tell me.”
Yesterday, we’d found Peter alive. Q had arranged for a doctor to travel with him to England, and we’d waved him off on a private plane with a car waiting at the other end to take him home.
I missed the bastard, but knowing he was alive? Goddammit, I didn’t think I could survive another surprise like that.
But then we’d returned to my brother’s estate, and he’d sat us down at the dining table.
He and Tess acted squirrely and secretive before he almost choked on an offer I never expected. “Stay.”
Stay?
I’d rocked back in my chair all while Ily shared a smile with Tess. “Oh, we couldn’t. This is your home.”
“It is.” Q sent a key spinning on the tabletop. “And this opens the door to yours.”
I’d slapped my hand on the key to stop it spinning, a mix of suspicion and frustration in my blood.
Q had merely stood, taken his wife’s hand, and pointed through the patio doors. “Go north. You’ll find the gatehouse. It’s yours if you want it.”
And then they’d left.
And now, we were here.
“Oh wow,” Ily whispered, stepping through the quaint foyer with flagstones leading to the living room to the left. Rough beams cut the whitewashed ceiling. Sprigs of dried flowers hung in bunches by the window. A fire crackled in a huge open fireplace. The cream couch looked stuffed with fucking clouds and the coffee table was an old wagon wheel with a glass top. The entire thing reeked of country wealth. Old wealth. Obscene wealth. But cosy and imperfect at the same time.
I followed Ily into the kitchen. Grey glossy cabinetry with a huge farmhouse sink. A huge chunk of wood for the bench with a low-ceilinged dining room in a nook surrounded by windows. The floorplan led us to the next room. Another sitting area with comfy couches and shelves full of books. Another room spilled out to the left, where two desks sat on either side of each other as if a husband and wife ran their own company from these very walls. Ily’s red scarf flicked around the corner as she headed into a den complete with a TV projector, bean bags, and soft side lights.
I didn’t say a word as she climbed the narrow ancient staircase to the second level. Up here, the ceilings were even lower but somehow seemed to cradle with comfort instead of squash with claustrophobia. A massive bathroom with a clawfoot bath and modern steam shower glittered with silver and bronze tiles. Three bedrooms with matching cosy beds and thick velvet curtains dripping on the floor.
She let out a soft cry as she stepped into a giant master bedroom with bifolds leading to a quaint roof deck full of potted plants. The view gave a sprawling vista of willow trees, meadows, and Q’s château twinkling in the distance.