Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Then I’m not staying here,” she snaps.
I spin back to her, stalking across the room. She gasps when I grab her shoulders.
“You’re staying here as long as I need you to,” I growl. “You’ll stay here forever if that’s what I want. You belong to me, Bonnie. You belonged to me the second you walked through the goddamn door.”
“You’re a monster,” she whispers.
“Then what does that make you?”
When I kiss her, the conflict melts away. Our bodies take over. Our souls…
That’s a hell of a thing, me thinking about souls, but it feels like the truth, like we’re fusing. We kiss far longer than we should, considering she’s supposed to be mad at me.
“That’s the last time we kiss until I get the truth,” she snaps, marching to the bed. “Go on, then. If you won’t give me the truth, leave me alone.”
With the taste of her still on my lips, I turn and walk to the door, throw it open, and stalk into the hallway.
This is getting messy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bonnie
I wake to a knock at the door.
Sunlight filters through the window, and I think about the restaurant for a second. I think about walking into the living room and finding Dad passed out on the couch, shaking him awake, and telling him he needs to head out and look for work as he promised.
Another knock, and I peel my eyes open, staring at the ceiling of the four-poster bed. What is that even called? A bed curtain? There are intricate patterns on the violet material.
“Ma’am,” a male voice says. “Mr. Baird has asked if you’d give Archie his morning walk.”
I walk over to the door. My body is still sore from yesterday. As I slept, dreams threw memories of our clashing bodies at me, the closeness we shared, but my mind is aching, too, from how we left things.
“Where is Mr. Baird?” I ask.
“Attending business. He’ll be back this evening. Will you take Archie? I have something else for you, too.”
The second I open the door, the small, happy black dog comes rushing in. He yaps excitedly and jumps up on my leg. I lean down, warmth filling me, pushing away the stress from last night.
Stroking Archie, I tickle him behind the ear, then cradle his face. “Who’s a good boy, huh? Who’s the best boy?”
I’d expect somebody like Blake to have a big, scary, grumpy dog—not this happy, energetic ball of fluff. I wonder if it says anything about him, like there are hidden doors inside him, places of kindness and affection. I’ve felt those places in snippets when he kisses me and holds me, but the crime boss always comes out.
The security man stands a respectful distance away. He’s staring down the hallway as though purposefully not looking at me. Then I realize why. I’m still in my PJs. Would Blake be pissed if this man checked me out? I guess he would since I belong to him.
“Archie’s leash is by the rear door of the first kitchen,” the man goes on, “and I have this for you.”
As Archie runs circles around my feet, the man offers me a wrapped gift. The man is tall and lean with light red hair, his eyes aimed anywhere but at me. Even as he gives me the present, he stares down the hall.
“Did he order you not to look at me?” I ask.
“It’s disrespectful to ogle your employer’s…” he trails off, as if not knowing the right word.
“Girlfriend,” he finishes.
I take the gift, warning myself not to get childishly giddy at the term girlfriend, especially considering what happened last night.
“Is that the rule with all his girlfriends?” I ask.
The man flashes me a look, grimacing tightly.
“What is it? You’re not supposed to talk about his other women?”
He stares for a moment, looking straight at my face as if scared of being disrespectful to me by even glancing downward at my body.
“What?” I press, sure he wants to say something.
“This is all new to me,” he says and hurries away.
What does that mean? That Blake never has girlfriends? He told me he hasn’t been with a woman in over a decade, but that easily could’ve been a lie to reel me in. Or maybe it’s the truth.
Maybe he’s chosen me when nobody else could turn him into the animal he becomes in the bedroom. I don’t want to be flattered. I want to stay mad, pissed at him for leaving me to wonder about Mom and Dad.
Placing the gift on the bed, I walk down the hallway to the shrine I investigated last night. Just like I guessed, the door is locked now. I shake it in the frame, trying to turn the handle, but it doesn’t work.
I was right, then. He tacitly admitted it last night. He and Dad and Mom were friends.