Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
So why don’t I? I could see a movie, go shopping. I could do whatever I want, and yet I choose to come straight here.
Because even though Callum has avoided me as much as I’ve avoided him, I can’t shake the sense of being watched. Like now, as I get out of the car. The hair on the back of my neck rises. I can feel his gaze on me. Watching my every move, wondering what took me so long to get here.
Or maybe I’m just going crazy.
Around the office, I’ve been able to pretend that everything about my life is normal. No one has to know I spend my free time locked in the empty wing of an enormous mansion. They don’t know I scurry into the house with my head down, eyes trained on the ground, before dashing to the bedroom and locking the door behind me.
They don’t know I eat dinner alone at the desk in Tatum’s office. Or that every night I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this is the night Callum comes for me. He hasn’t, and maybe he won’t. Maybe he was serious about wanting nothing to do with me anymore.
It would be for the best if he was. As exciting as he is, there’s a difference between the sort of danger that makes my heart race and my nipples hard and how he spoke to me. The way he touched me and threatened me with that gun.
Even now, my blood runs cold at the reminder. There was a second when I thought for sure he was going to kill me because I was a liability. He wouldn’t want Tatum to know for sure the sort of things he does, so I was certain—panicked, confused, horrified—he would want to shut me up permanently.
He might have calmed down since then, but I can’t forget the way it felt. The terror in my veins. There was a monster staring down at me with no light in his eyes. No life. I hardly recognized him. Deep down, I knew I was in the presence of the real Callum Torrio. A man so used to violence and intimidation that it meant nothing to threaten me with a gun.
So leave, then. God, how many times have I told myself that? There’s nothing keeping me here but pride—which is ironic, considering I don’t have enough pride to leave after he threatened to kill me. The more I think about it, the more confused I become, and the angrier I get with myself.
It’s easier just to sit down with my salad and binge something on my laptop and wait until it’s time to go to bed. My life is sleeping, going to work, and coming home to a handful of beautiful rooms that aren’t actually mine.
It’s not like I haven’t been looking for a place. I’ve spent a few lunch breaks checking out apartments in the area, but my heart sinks a little further with each one. The one I looked at yesterday featured an oven that looked like it might have come from the Reagan administration and rusty bathroom fixtures even older than that. I don’t think it’s being picky to hope for something that will not break down on me. Another place sat between two abandoned buildings covered in graffiti. I didn’t get the safest feeling, and no way could I ever have Dad visit. He’d have a stroke.
I’m doing my best to see the good in a situation that seems terrible. It’ll be better once Tatum gets back. She offered to let me stay longer before she left. There’s plenty of room, and I won’t be alone then. It’s not a permanent solution, but it is better than nothing.
Oh god, what if she expects me to spend time with her and Callum together? All it takes is a question like that to make me break out in a cold sweat. She’ll want to know why things are weird, and I don’t know if I could answer that question without giving away all the things I don’t want her to know.
In other words, there’s a speeding train bearing down on me. The horn’s blare is a little louder every day, and the lights shine a little brighter the closer it comes. I wish it didn’t feel like I’m tied to the tracks.
Tonight’s my least favorite of the week. I used to look forward to Friday nights and having a whole weekend stretched out in front of me. Now, there’s nothing to look forward to except doing my best to avoid Callum for two days.
The windows on this end of the house look out over the grounds, but no matter how I crane my neck, I can’t get a look at the driveway or courtyard. There’s no way to know if he’s left or not.