Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“I’m Cameron Ashton,” he said, his head now cocked to the side, his gaze taking me in as if he could see into the very depths of my soul. “You really have no idea who I am, despite coming to my club all this time.” He didn’t phrase it like a question.
I just shook my head.
I stared at the monitors again, reality and relaxation settling in. “You’ve been watching me?” I whispered those words, knowing my voice sounded accusing.
“I have,” he said with no remorse, no shame.
No, I could see he was different than Ricky, more organized, more controlled. He probably did things that would make me cringe, but was also powerful in every sense of the word.
“Why?” I didn’t know why I asked or why I even cared. But the word came out on its own, refusing to be silenced.
He didn’t answer me, just watched me like a hawk about to strike.
This man could help me. This man who seemed far more powerful than anyone I’d ever come up against. I didn’t know how I knew that, or why I wanted to go down this road again, but I had no other options. The words played in my head, over and over again. A cry for help was poised at the tip of my tongue. Surely a man like him, a man who could hold a gun to a stranger’s head, could help me.
And you’re foolish enough to ask? Isn’t this how you got into your current situation?
I could see by looking into Cameron’s dark, bottomless eyes that he was a man used to owning the world. And it was an ugly world. Ricky would use me up until there was nothing left.
Fucking Ricky. I should never have gone to him for help. God, poor Marshall.
Is this how David felt when he went up against Goliath? The one thing I knew for sure was that I wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. Asking Cameron Ashton for help was the equivalent of asking the devil to promise not to drag me deeper into hell.
I’m already in hell. How much deeper can I get?
Neither of us said anything, and I had a feeling I could stand here all day and he’d just watch me, being the calculating bastard that I felt he was. I didn’t know why he’d brought me to his office. But I assumed he’d known, or at least sensed, that I was in trouble. Or maybe he just wanted to fuck with me. He’d been watching me this whole time, that feeling of being watched more literal than I’d ever imagined.
“Why did you bring me in here?” Saying the words, questioning a man like this seemed almost abhorrent, like I was basically asking him to snuff me out.
“Why did you agree to come here?” he threw back, his voice still calm, still so damn collected.
“I need help.” And the words just came out, like spilled water refusing to stay in the glass. It was a thick string of letters mashed together. I didn’t want to wait for him to say anything, for him to be the one to start this, if he even would have.
Still he was silent. Still he watched me as if I intruded on his time, his space, even if he had called me here.
“I have nowhere else to go, and I assume that’s why you brought me here?”
“Is that what you thought?” His question had a sharp edge to it.
I breathed out slowly, trying to appear calm, but I knew I was failing miserably at it. “I don’t know what I thought, what to think.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow, maybe waiting for me to continue or for me to shut the fuck up.
God, my throat was so thick. My heart raced, my hands shook, and I felt like I was on drugs, like I’d taken some speed and had no control over my body right now.
When he didn’t say anything after that, I clenched my jaw, feeling light-headed, like I could pass out right now. Would he turn me down, beat me for being so brazen as to ask for help? Shit, why had he brought me here anyway? He still hadn’t told me that much. Maybe seeing me squirm got him off? And if he agreed, what would he want in return?
Oh, you know.
But I could handle some rough sex, even if I had no experience with it whatsoever. I could be whoever, whatever he wanted me to be if it meant saving my life.
It wasn’t until the earth opened up and hell presented itself that I realized my life wasn’t disposable. I wanted to live, wanted to be a better person. I wanted that silver lining, that happily ever after. I wasn’t foolish enough to think I’d ever get any of that, but I still wanted it, and I was willing to do anything to make sure I kept moving forward.