Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
The sight of my stepbrothers sitting at the island, both eating cereal, kills that idea. I should have known better. Frustration threatens to bring tears to my eyes, but I fight them back.
Colt lifts his chin in acknowledgment of my entrance. There’s nothing in his posture or the look on his face to suggest anything that happened last night, or the fact that he spent hours holding me in bed. It’s almost enough to make me wonder if I imagined the whole thing.
“Good morning. Here, have some breakfast.” He pushes the cereal box my way, even though I haven’t yet taken a seat. I don’t know that I will, either.
Nix reads my hesitation right away. “He’ll be out all day.” There’s no need to explain who he’s talking about. “He said he has back-to-back meetings.”
My relief is enormous, though it doesn’t really change anything. He’s not here during the day? He’ll be back tonight. I’ve been granted a reprieve, that’s all.
Colt eyes me like he senses my thought process. “If you want,” he murmurs between spoonfuls, “you can hang around the house today. You don’t have to stay upstairs. You just can’t leave.”
“Wow, really?” Maybe I shouldn’t get snarky with him, but the way he said it is so condescending. I’m supposed to live here. This is supposed to be my house, too, but I’m being given permission to act like I live here. Does he expect my thanks?
“Whatever,” Nix mutters with a shrug. “You don’t have to. Just figured you might want to.”
“I would rather stay in my room.” I don’t wait for either of them to smart off to me before I turn on my heel and leave the room. We’re not friends, and we never will be. Besides, I don’t want a day spent in front of the TV right now. It’s a way out of here. I’m not going to waste the opportunity.
What am I going to do, though? There’s got to be a way out. The house has a million windows. One of them has to be unlocked.
Rather than go up to my room like I said I would, I speed walk past the stairs and go into the family room. What a name. Like there’s anything normal about this family. The windows are locked, and I would have to pull up a chair or a stepladder to reach the latches. I don’t know if I have time for that or whether it would be too loud. What are the odds of them going to the gym today? If they did, though, they would probably lock me in my room to be on the safe side. So that wouldn’t help.
No, whatever I do, it has to be fast. Before they get the chance to go back on their word and lock me up. I start down the hall, looking over my shoulder the whole time. I walk into the next room I find, which happens to be James’s office.
I’m surprised he leaves it unlocked, but then I guess he figures nobody has the nerve to step foot in here without permission. He’s that sure of himself, of how tight a grip he has over this house.
I should go straight to the windows behind the desk, but a new idea bubbles in the back of my mind. What if I can use something in here against him? I’m not sure what I’m looking for—the idea is too vague for me to have a clear idea of what to search for. There must be something. Files, pictures, a key for the front door. Something.
I go to his desk and force my way through the revulsion that threatens to choke me; it has my throat so tight. Just being in his personal space makes me want to throw up. His laptop isn’t here, but that might be a good thing. I don’t want to look through it. I shudder to think what I might find.
Instead, I busy myself looking through the drawers. For a man so big on security, it’s a wonder he doesn’t leave the drawers more tightly guarded. They open easily, but at first, all I find are letterheads and envelopes, nothing very interesting or worthwhile. I go to the next drawer, then the next, and my frustration only grows. Paper clips, a stapler. There has to be something—this desk could belong to anybody in the entire world. It’s so impersonal. Doesn’t he store anything worthwhile in here?
It’s when I get to the deep bottom drawer that things start getting more interesting. It’s full of hanging file folders, paperwork, that kind of thing. I don’t have time to go through all of it, and I’m not sure I’d know what I was reading even if I did. Still no key. Maybe he keeps keys in his bedroom, but I don’t dare go in there. I’d have to walk past the guys’ rooms, for one thing. What I’m doing right now is already dangerous enough.