Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I close the car door, and my phone vibrates in my hand. I startle and look down to see Christian’s name flash across the screen, along with a text from him.
Christian: I just wanted you to know you looked beautiful this morning and not to forget that it’s okay to take risks.
Beautiful? My cheeks heat to the temperature of the sun. The mysterious Christian has weaseled his way into my subconscious. How is it a stranger can look at me and see that I’m drowning, but the people closest to me can’t? I read the text back to myself again, and stupidly, I smile. It throws me off, but at the same time, it centers me.
It’s what I need. I know if I don’t take the risk, then I’ll never see any reward. Still, I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to step outside of the fear I live in. Taj is my safety net and staying inside my bubble is what’s kept me safe these past couple of years. What if I make a mistake and he finds me? I sigh so loud I’m sure the neighbors can hear me.
I straighten my spine and remember all I’ve endured and how far I’ve come. Everything is going to be okay. I need to be safe, at least for now.
Christian is right, but wrong at the same time. Safe keeps me alive. He could never know the danger taking a risk might bring to my door.
As soon as I reach the bottom step of the stoop, Cynthia opens the door. Her eyes are bright and joyous while a smile pulls onto her lips. There is never a moment when she isn’t happy to see me. The love and compassion she’s carried over the years makes her more than just my guardian. In my eyes, she’s like a mother, always making sure I’m protected and loved.
“Siân, you’re looking as beautiful as ever. It feels like forever since I saw you last,” she whispers into the shell of my ear as she wraps her arms tightly around me. Her hugs are the best, like a toasty blanket and hot cocoa the moment you come inside from the cold.
Pulling away, I murmur, “It hasn’t been that long. You look beautiful as well.” And she does. She’s practically glowing.
“Enough, you’re going to make me blush. Let’s get inside and have some soup. I even made bread to go with it.”
My stomach, of course, chooses this moment to growl, and we burst into laughter. We enter the house together, and Cynthia closes the door behind us and heads straight for the kitchen. Her house has an open concept, with the living room and dining room blending into one another. Every time I step inside this house, I feel protected. I feel like nothing can touch me, probably because I know Cynthia would let nothing happen to me.
Not when all we have is each other.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, sensing the shift in my emotions while she readies herself to dish out soup.
“Yes. I’m fine. Just thinking of how grateful I am to have you. We’ve been through so much together. I always want you to know how much I appreciate you.”
She stops mid ladle and looks up at me. “You mean the world to me, Siân. All we have is each other, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to help you. You know that.”
With everything going on and the paranoia I’ve had, this is just the reminder I needed.
“I do, and I’ve never doubted that. I just miss spending time with you, is all. I’ve been so busy with school and work, and there aren’t enough hours in the day.” Now I sound like I’m complaining.
Cynthia only smiles. “Well, we’ve got right now, don’t we? So let’s eat, watch a movie, and enjoy one another’s company.” I can only smile and take the bowl of soup she offers me. She’s so much more than my caretaker. She’s my family.
5
CHRISTIAN
The sound of my tires screech over the pavement as I whip my 458 Italia in front of the abandoned warehouse. A row of massive, dilapidated structures, wrapped in moss and vines, stare back at me. We’re tucked away in a small town an hour outside of South Beach. What was once a thriving fishing port is now just a forgotten memory of aging buildings that serves as the camping grounds for the homeless, drug addicts, and—well, us. It’s the perfect location for our type of work. It’s quiet and off the beaten path, and when we are conducting business, the regular residents know to steer clear. Often, they are hired to keep an eye on the place.
I’ve only been here once, back before my guy found Siân in Florida. This place is in worse condition than it was back then. Trash and debris litter the grounds, and the smell of urine permeates the air. Even from where I sit in the driver’s seat with the windows up, I can smell it.