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)
“It’s not bleeding, but you’re going to have a lump about the size of a goose egg.”
“This entire trip has been nothing but hazardous to my health so far,” she grumbled.
“Look at it this way,” he said, his fingers still entangled in her hair, while his other hand continued to cradle her cheek, his long thumb now idly tracing the line of her cheekbone and sending shivers of sensation skittering over her skin. “You avoided being crushed to death by a falling tree on day one. That’s a win.”
Iris fought back a smile but couldn’t disguise the betraying twitch of her lips. His eyes were drawn to the movement of her lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and his pupils dilated to the point where only a sliver of silver remained. His head lowered, until the merest breath separated his mouth from hers, and Iris choked back a moan.
“T-Trystan?” His name emerged on a whisper of uncertainty, and he shuddered—a full-body ripple that caused gooseflesh to visibly pebble his skin—then blinked, before shaking his head as if to clear it.
He dropped his hands and took a deliberate step away from her, leaving her feeling bereft, as if she’d lost something precious.
“I didn’t realize we were on a first-name basis, Hughes,” he said, that awful, detached coldness back in his voice, and Iris sucked in a pained breath. That one frigid statement hurting more than anything he’d said about her biological father earlier.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Abbott,” she apologized, hating that the stiffness in her voice betrayed her hurt. So much for cultivating a thicker skin. “You’re right, of course. I won’t forget myself like that again.”
He chose not to acknowledge her apology and instead opened the sauna door. He grabbed their robes from the hook outside the door and handed the smaller one to her.
“Put this on,” he said while shrugging into his and thankfully—tragically—covering himself up and removing all that tempting flesh from her lascivious gaze. “Stay warm until you get back to your room, then get into some sweats, do those stretches, and spend the rest of the morning taking it easy. Okay?”
She was too busy shrugging into her robe, while keeping her towel from slipping, to do more than grunt in response to his bossiness.
“Hughes!”
His sharp tone immediately drew her attention.
“What?”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“About the sweats and stretches and stuff? Yes.”
He looked somewhat mollified as he nodded. “Good. Some acknowledgment next time.”
She saluted him smartly, “Yes, oh lord and master!”
“Christ, you’re annoying,” he grumbled. “Let’s go.”
She meekly trailed behind him, her eyes happily exploring the house as they made their way from the natatorium back to her room. He must be distracted because he hadn’t taken hold of her elbow to hastily steer her along as he’d done the previous few times she’d been allowed out of her cell.
Her eyes snagged on a framed picture of a happily smiling couple in their wedding finery and Iris finally understood what people meant when they referred to a lightbulb moment, because it felt like someone had just flicked a switch in her brain.
“This isn’t your house.” The words were out before she could curtail them, and he stopped walking abruptly. Iris careened into his hard back, but it felt like bouncing off an immovable tree trunk for all the impact her momentum had made on his sturdy frame.
“Fuck.” The soft word resonated with heartfelt regret. “You’re just incapable of minding your own business, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t realize you knew Miles Hollingsworth,” she said.
He turned toward her, clamping both hands onto her upper arms, and looming over her to glare down into her face.
She stared back at him unblinkingly, too accustomed to his bluster by now to be daunted.
“And you’re going to forget that little factoid as soon as you’re back in your room.”
“But why? It’s not like he’s some kind of mafia kingpin. The man is a genius. How do you know him?”
“You think I can’t hang out with geniuses?”
“Genii,” she corrected, just to irritate him.
“You know damned well geniuses is right too,” he ground out from between clenched teeth.
“Well, how do you know Miles Hollingsworth? Is he your financial advisor or something?”
“You know so much about him, you’d know he’s not a fucking financial advisor.”
No, he wasn’t. Miles Hollingsworth was the former CEO of Hollingsworth Holdings Inc. A powerful, wealthy, self-made man who’d founded one of the largest holding companies in Europe. He’d caused a sensation a couple of years ago when he’d effectively retired at thirty-five, married his former housekeeper, and moved to… well to here apparently.
That explained the cars in the garage. MilesH for Miles Hollingsworth. Which meant the Mini Cooper had to belong to his wife, Charity.
“Have you known him long?” Iris asked chattily, as he released one of her arms, but kept the other imprisoned to march her back to her room at twice the speed they’d been going earlier.