Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I insulted her words by grinning, but I couldn’t help it. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Why?”
I drank my wine again.
“Why?” she repeated, as if I hadn’t heard her. “Will you ever tell me what happened between you two?”
“We’re enemies. I told you that.”
“More like frenemies.”
I sank into my chair, hands gripping the edges of the armrests.
“I think it would help if I understood—”
“It’s beyond your understanding. Our world is small. Only a few key players. For the health of the ecosystem, it’s better to find a way to coexist.”
“So, you’re in the same line of business?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Well, I’m pretty smart—”
“I’m done talking about him.” The only time I wanted to think about that motherfucker was when I was taunting him, not enjoying my grand estate and the woman who served as my trophy. “I will get your necklace back. It’ll just take me some time.”
She wore that look on her face that told me she wanted to charge through my walls until she got what she wanted. But she withdrew, letting the topic fade. “Like I said, I don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re more important than that necklace.”
My eyes locked on her face, reading all the signs of sincerity that came so naturally to her. She wore her heart on her sleeve, bravely shared her feelings without fear of rejection. She made me feel wanted, but she did it in a way that wasn’t claustrophobic and needy. She didn’t want me for the same reasons the others did—because of money. It made me feel like shit, but not shitty enough to stop.
“Here you are, Mr. Beaufort.” Hugo placed the folded letter on my desk, smoothed out as much as possible to get rid of all the creases. It’d been crumpled up like the other, thrown to the bottom of the wastebasket to be forgotten. He departed my study and left me alone.
I unfolded it and started to read.
How many times have I heard the girls say that the men will leave their wives? That they just need more time. Need to get their affairs in order. Speak to the lawyers before pulling the trigger. And how many times did I just nod along and keep my mouth shut? I thought they were stupid for believing their lies. Men said anything in the heat of the moment and never kept their promises.
But here I am…doing the exact same thing.
He called me a whore. Cared more about preserving his business partnership than his commitment to me. Told me that our relationship wasn’t a relationship at all…just a symbiotic compromise.
I don’t believe that. I don’t believe a man can kiss me like that and not mean it. I don’t believe a man can rescue me from my nightmares when his heart doesn’t beat for me. Sometimes he grabs me and kisses me for no reason…and if he weren’t holding me, I might fall to my knees. A man can’t do those things and feel nothing, right?
Right…?
I hardly think of Grave. I have a new life now, living with a man who’s my protector and my lover. He’s all I ever think about now, the single most important thing in my life. Grave could be dead, and I would still be here.
Would he want me here?
Am I the stupidest person alive for falling for someone like Cauldron? A man who fights his vulnerability with the strength of steel.
Or am I the most romantic person alive…for believing he’s worth fighting for?
It was the middle of the night.
The clock read 3:34 a.m.
I sat in my study and looked out the open window. The grounds were lit up, ancient trees illuminated across the estate. The world was still. The wind was absent. I should be asleep, but I couldn’t sleep at a time like this.
My eyes glanced back to the phone on the desk.
The screen was black.
My eyes shifted back to the window.
With my fingers tucked under my chin and my elbow on the armrest, I pierced the night with my eyes, my mind envisioning the carnage I’d caused. Grave had crippled my business, and now I would do the same to him.
Crack.
My head snapped to the open doorway of my study.
A dish had fallen in the kitchen and shattered. The sound traveled all the way to me on the other side of the silent house. I grabbed my gun from the drawer and shoved the phone into my pocket before I went to investigate.
“Shit…” Camille was squatting on the floor, doing her best to pick up all the little pieces of the shattered plate without cutting herself.
“What are you doing?”
She jumped up with a yelp. “Jesus!” Her hand clutched her chest, and she backed into the kitchen island. “How did you get down here so fast?”
I turned on the safety and set the gun on the counter.