Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
When I’ve tucked her in, I pull down the shutters in front of the windows to shut out the daylight. Casting a glance at her, I pick up the gun. She’s not looking at me. She’s staring with non-seeing eyes at the wall.
I lock the gun in the safe—I’ll clean it later—and get into bed beside her. She doesn’t protest as I spoon her from behind and wrap my arms around her. Her body is soft and warm, the curve of her back and ass fitting perfectly against my chest and groin. I’ve never held a woman like this, and I take a moment to revel in the warmth that seeps from her skin.
I wait until her breathing changes to a slow, even rhythm before untangling myself from her. Taking care not to wake her, I make sure she’s covered before I get dressed. Then I go to the lounge to make arrangements for when we’ll land in Marseille.
Half an hour before the pilot announces our descent, I go back to the cabin. I stop at the side of the bed and study the sleeping form of my wife. Even under a heap of fluffy goose feathers, her shape is slender and fragile. With her palms pressed together and forming a cushion for her cheek, she looks innocent.
Blameless.
She is innocent, but she’s also guilty. She’s always been guilty, even before she pulled the trigger. The mere fact that she breathes earned her the liability that comes with the blood of her family name. That very name, the name of my enemy, is the means to recognition and honor, to opening the doors that have been closed to me until now. Her father may have turned us into the rivals we became, but she’s mine. She’s always been mine. For as long as I live, she’ll belong to me.
Wiping the hair from her face, I say in a quiet voice, “Wake up, cara.”
She stirs but fights consciousness, no doubt preferring to hide in the dark.
I give her shoulder a gentle shake. “Open your eyes, bella.”
She lifts her eyelids and blinks. Her gaze is soft and hazy, and then it becomes shuttered as reality sets in.
“We’re landing soon,” I say. “You better get dressed. Your suitcase is next to the closet. Do you want me to help you?”
“No.” She sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m fine.”
“Come out when you’re ready.” Something tightens in my chest when I watch her naked curves. My cock stirs as I look at the juncture of her legs, remembering the sight of my gun there. “You have to buckle up for the landing.”
Going to pains not to touch me, she shifts all the way to the headboard before standing. I remain on the spot as she walks a wide circle around me, goes into the bathroom, and shuts the door. The lock clicks in place.
I don’t give sound to the sigh trapped in my lungs. It’s going to take time. This thing between us, this hatred that binds us, knows no other way. It’s not going away. We’ll have to learn how to live with it and how to get around it. It doesn’t help that I have no experience in this minefield called a relationship. Adeline was much better at people skills.
The thought of my sister twists my gut. Her absence is still like a visceral hole in my life. Hardening my feelings, I return to my seat and lose myself in work until Sabella returns. She’s wearing the clothes Celeste packed for her—a pair of ripped skinny jeans, a tight T-shirt, ankle boots, and a leather jacket. Her hair is brushed out, and her face is free of make-up.
My gaze is drawn to the beauty spot at the corner of her mouth. I’ve always found that pretty. Cute. I haven’t had many opportunities to study her, but I know every inch of her body as if it’s my own. She’s ingrained in my memory, a living entity beating alongside my heart under my breastbone.
I don’t miss her flinch when she puts her ass on the seat. Leaning over, I secure her safety belt. She lets me but flattens herself against the backrest to prevent my arm from brushing against her breast.
It’s past dinner time. I had meals prepared. They’re in the kitchen, ready to be nuked, but with what happened, food wasn’t on my mind. I doubt she had an appetite. Even so, we also skipped lunch. The growl of her stomach confirms that she’s hungry.
“We’ll eat on the yacht,” I say. “We’re about to go in for the landing.”
She turns her face toward the window without answering.
It’s the middle of the night when we land. A hostess boards to pack our bags. She eyes me with interest in the passing but quickly averts her eyes at my hostile look. I take the coat I bought for the occasion from the closet and hold it open for Sabella. When I helped her to fit her arms, I button it up. Through it all, she refuses to meet my gaze.