Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
I rush through the doors of the building and through the lobby, barely waving at the doorman. I reach the elevator and gasp as said doorman steps to my side. “May I help you, miss? Do you have an invitation into the building?”
An invitation. To my own apartment, that isn’t my apartment at all. Eric joins us, his eyes meeting mine. “She’s with me.”
“Right,” I say. “Do I need a visitor’s badge or something?” I’m not looking at the guard. I’m looking at Eric. “Something that says temporarily yours?”
His eyes flash and he shocks me by dragging me to him. “Is that where you want to go with this?”
“We’re not alone,” I whisper.
He looks at the guard and that’s all it takes. The guard walks away and it’s game on for me and Eric. The explosion is about to happen.
Chapter one hundred seven
Harper
Eric’s eyes glint hard and he pulls me into the elevator and punches in the code for his floor. I don’t know that code. Another reason to feel like I’m a visitor. He turns me into the corner, his big body crowding mine as the elevator doors shut behind him. “Don’t trap me against the wall,” I whisper, shoving at the hard, unmoving wall of his chest. “Don’t bully me.”
“That’s what you think I’m doing? Bullying you?”
“Just back off and stop being an asshole.”
“I am an asshole, Harper. I might even be the devil himself, a man willing to watch his father die. It’s the Kingston blood, remember?”
“I misspoke and it was stupid and for that, I’m truly sorry. I don’t think that of you.”
He leans on the wall, hand on the wooden surface, chin tucked, the pulse of emotions telling a story. The apology changes nothing. He’s angry. I’m hurt.
The elevator dings, he pushes off the wall, and takes me with him as he exits, anger radiating off of him and slamming right into my own. I’m furious with him and the reasons are many, so many that I am bursting to proclaim them all. He doesn’t have to drag me to the apartment. I’m keeping pace with him. I’m right there at the door as he unlocks it, he who has a key while I do not. He shoves the door open and I don’t wait for a visitor’s invitation. I enter and whirl around to face him.
He locks the door and stands there, his back to me, his spine stiff, seconds ticking by like the arm of a clock weighted with lead. I can’t take it. I don’t want to wait to say my piece, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to deal with me. I’m here, in his space, in his place, and right now, I’m pretty sure he asked me to stay because it was the heat of the moment. Buyer’s remorse has now kicked in. Why am I going to waste my energy telling him all the things I feel that don’t matter? This family is trying to suck out any part of me that is human. He’s trying to break every part of me. I always knew he would.
I rotate and all but run to the bedroom. I need to pack what I have to my name and leave. I walk into the bathroom and realize I have nothing really, plus where am I going to go? Where am I safe? I shut the door and lock it. I wait then, hoping Eric will follow me. Hoping he will make this all go away, but there is no knock on the door. There is just silence and without question, I’m in full abandonment mode. I slide down the wooden surface and squeeze my eyes shut, fighting a pinch that promises to become tears. I don’t know what is happening between us. I just know that I have nothing stable to call my own, not even my mother. Certainly not my house, because it’s in Denver, and it’s not safe.
My cellphone rings and I pull it from my pocket to find a blocked number. I think of Gigi immediately and answer the call. “Hello?” I’m met with static and the line goes dead. Damn it. I wait and hope it will ring again but it doesn’t. Seconds tick by and nothing. I tamp down on my emotions, presently zapping my brain cells and decide I should tell Eric. Okay no. I have nothing to say to Eric at present. Blake, I think. I can call Blake, but quickly discard the idea. No, not Blake. He’s too sharp. He knows me and he’ll read me like a large print book, way too easily. He’ll ask questions and I’ll melt down. I think I have Smith’s number and I scan my phonebook for confirmation. Yes. Blake seems to have put about everyone he could think of in my phonebook, even Mia and Grayson. My stomach knots. Like I belong here.