Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
She eyed those big, capable hands in horror and amusement, not at all sure what his intentions were right now.
“Do you need help?” The tight awkwardness in his voice told her that he wasn’t certain of his next move either.
“I think I’m okay to walk,” she said, taking one wobbly step before he made an impatient grunting sound and closed his hand around her elbow in support.
This time she didn’t even bother calling him out on the grabbiness because she was actually grateful for the aid. And truthfully, she didn’t really mind it, not even when she’d mentioned it to him before. She’d just felt the need to establish boundaries even though she hadn’t felt truly threatened by his bossy touch.
She allowed him to steer her toward the door, even though she hardly needed direction out of the room. Her phone beeped as they slowly made their way to the door and she pulled it out of her pocket with her free hand to check the incoming message.
He stopped walking abruptly and she lifted her head in confusion, only to find him glaring down at the phone in her hand.
“Leave that behind.”
“What? My phone? But…”
“No recording devices allowed in the rest of the house.”
Was he joking? One look at his grim face told her what a ridiculous question that was. Despite evidence she’d seen to the contrary in the past, Trystan Abbott did not seem to possess much in the way of a sense of humor. Those interviews of an approachable and laughing Trystan Abbott had to have been staged.
“Recording device? It’s my phone.”
“It’s a camera. And an audio recorder. It stays in the room.”
“You’re paranoid,” she protested. As indictments went it was pretty weak, but it was all she could come up with right now in the face of this outrageousness.
“I don’t think so. I’m cautious around someone who has invaded my privacy and tried to feed me a pack of lies. You can use your phone in your own room…”
“My prison cell, you mean? And don’t you dare call me a liar! I haven’t lied to you, not once. I told you I have messages and texts from Mr. Quinn but you’re being a dick about even looking at them. Here, I’ll show you…”
She swiped at her phone, frantically looking for even one of those messages to shove into his face, but he calmly took the phone from her and held it behind his back.
“Hey, give that back!” she tried to grab it, but he lifted it above his head, flouting her attempts to take the device back from him.
She stopped reaching for her phone. It would be impossible to get it from him and she was merely making an idiot of herself in the process.
She’d never truly hated anyone in her life before, not even the people who had made her life a living hell back in school, but Iris was definitely leaning toward that emotion with this man.
“When you’re alone,” he continued doggedly, as if her outraged interruption hadn’t even happened, which infuriated Iris even more. He disregarded the daggers flying at him from her eyes. “Call your family, laugh at cat memes, shop for more horrendous clothes… do whatever the fuck you want on that thing. But your phone doesn’t leave this room. If it ever manages to find its way out, I’m confiscating it. And if I see anything on social media about where you are, or about me, I’m destroying it and moving your prison cell to the shed. We clear?”
Great. Just like that he’d gone back to being TDH. Iris was grateful for that—she preferred TDH to Trystan. At least with TDH, what you saw was what you got.
But Trystan was dangerous. He had too much power and if he put his mind to it, he could destroy Iris and her family. And while she didn’t care about her nonexistent professional reputation, she very much cared about her family and the business her parents had worked so hard to make a success of. If she got on the wrong side of this man, he could tear that all apart without even blinking.
He handed her phone back and Iris’s lips tightened as she pointedly placed it on the small dining table on their way out of the door. She kept her focus on Luna, ignoring him as he led her from the room.
She hated that his grip was gentle on her arm, hated that he walked slowly out of consideration for the pain she was in. She hated the contradiction and wished he’d remain consistent in his arseholery. Because when he was considerate, it made him feel approachable, made her think they could talk, that she could be herself and joke and laugh with him.
Then, when he turned around and shut her down like she was less than human, it stung. It even hurt. And it shouldn’t. Not when he meant nothing to her.