Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“Zoe.”
I lift my gaze to his. For the first time since I’ve known him, he’s at a loss for words. Whatever is going through his mind, I don’t want to hear it.
“Please,” I say, “don’t say anything.”
Indecision plays over his features as he scans my face. Then he leans in and kisses me. The kiss is violent. I make a protesting sound, trying to turn my head away, but he catches my face in his hand. His fingers hurt my jaw. His teeth cut my tongue. I relent, going slack in his hold. At least like this, we don’t have to talk.
He only lets me breathe when stars explode behind my eyes. I can’t meet his gaze any longer. I’m looking at the sun from over his shoulder, letting the bright rays blind me.
“I’m sorry,” he says, sitting up with his knees straddling my hips.
I laugh. “For what?”
“For spoiling your moment. I shouldn’t have taken over.”
I shrug, sinking a little deeper into the sand. “It wasn’t my moment.”
Tilting his head toward the sky, he scrubs a hand over his face. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and finally says, “If it’s any consolation, I’ve never said sorry to anyone before.”
“Okay.” I close my eyes, seeing red spots from the sun.
I could be on an island, a castaway, trying to survive alone. It’ll be an exciting game, a loveless dream in which to escape, but dreaming is no longer my escape. I think I’ve lost the ability altogether.
His sigh caresses my ears. I open my eyes when he buttons his jacket up over my torn dress and adjust his clothes. Getting to his feet, he offers me a hand.
I don’t accept it. I stand on my own.
I did something despicable. I fell for my kidnapper in a yearning need for affection. I opened my heart, and I did it willingly. I exposed myself to his rejection and took it like a punch in the chest.
I may have lost this bet, but I’m still standing.
From now on, it’s me on my own.
Chapter 3
Maxime
Zoe wants love. I’ll give her anything in my power, except for letting her go, but love is the one thing I can’t give. I’m not capable of loving. I care for her more than anyone. She makes me terrified that anything should happen to her, for fuck’s sake. I’ve long since dissected my fear and categorized it. I fear because I care. I’ve accepted it. But love? That’s a step I don’t know how to take.
I stole her because I wanted her hope. I wanted her secrets. I thought if I could figure out how she could survive her dysfunctional family in her disadvantaged neighborhood and still shine like a light in the dark, maybe so could I. I took her for purely selfish reasons, because I saw her as my ticket to happiness. My little experiment, but then, she became my own little wildflower in a vase, and I no longer wanted to let her go.
Of course, keeping her here is detrimental to our plan to guarantee her brother supplies us with diamonds when he takes back his mine. To my family, she’s our pawn. To me, that’s just a bonus. I promised my father I’d make sure she’d want to stay. I’ve planned everything so carefully, how I was going to make her happy. I gave her every clue she scattered around in her apartment that pointed to a dream—the trip to Venice, more pretty clothes than she can ever need, and a place in an elitist fashion design school. Yet I’ve forgotten about this crucial little detail. Love. Love features so lowly in my spectrum of feelings, I sometimes forget it exists. What did I expect? Of course, Zoe wants love. She’s a romantic. A dreamer. Above all, she deserves love. Maybe if she learns to love me she can love enough for the both of us.
My thoughts are dark as I head to my father’s office in the morning. I’m berating myself for my slipup, for overlooking such an important factor in my shrewd plan to keep her. One thing is for sure. I’m not planning on sending her back to her brother. Ever.
She’s mine.
Mulling over this new development, I walk into the office. My father is already behind his desk, even if it’s earlier than his usual arrival time. Alexis stands by the coffee machine. He doesn’t look at me as I enter, but the paper cup dents in his hand. We don’t speak about what happened in the warehouse. I practically left him and his buddy for dead. It took him more than a couple of weeks to recover. I have no idea if his buddy survived. All I know is he’s no longer around. He’s either six feet under or he bailed. My father knows about the lashing, but not about the rest. I left the details up to Alexis to share, and it seems he’s too proud to let anyone else know his fat friend came twice in his ass. He hasn’t touched a prostitute since. Point taken. Lesson learned. I’d say the unfortunate event was successful. I grin as I pour my coffee, taking pleasure from how Alexis’s jaw snaps tighter.