Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
I’m always fascinated watching my best friend interact with her new husband and this time is no exception. Grant walks into my bedroom like he owns the place—owns the world—in his starched black suit, sharp blue eyes riveted on Sienna. “Time’s up. You’re coming home now, angel.”
“Okay,” she whispers, her hands raking up the front of his jacket, eyes big and innocent. “Can we have ice cream for dinner?”
“Every flavor you can think of.”
Without sparing me a glance, he scoops Sienna off the bed and carries her out of the room. “Keep me updated, Ophelia!”
“Will do!” I call back, well used to our visits ending abruptly. “Bye!”
“Bye!”
Footsteps, courtesy of Sienna’s army of security, fade after a moment and I finally pull my phone out from beneath the pillow. This time, Wagner has sent me a photograph, instead of a simple text message. It’s a drafted email addresses to the New York Times, outlining my father’s involvement in a bribe to get me into Princeton. I drop my phone before I even finish reading but pick it up again with trembling fingers when it beeps again.
Just in case you’re having second thoughts.
I’m not sure how long I sit in my room, staring into a void, waiting to wake up from this awful nightmare, but afternoon turns into evening and I realize I have no choice. I have to meet with Wagner and hand over my body as a sacrifice. Ezra still hasn’t shown up. He’s probably decided a spoiled brat from the Upper West Side is more trouble than she’s worth and moved on to greener pastures. Tears spring to my eyes at that thought, but I force myself to climb off the bed and stumble to the shower.
An hour later, my hair and makeup is done and I’m standing in front of my closet in a robe. My skin crawls as I drag a black, lacy thong up my legs, knowing Wagner will be the one to take it off later. God. I’ll be lucky if I don’t puke all over the place the second he opens the door tonight.
After some debate, I defiantly yank a leather mini skirt off the hangar and pair it with a low-cut white tank top. No bra. If I’m going to be a sacrifice, might as well go the whole nine yards. No way I’m going to let Wagner see my horror or fear. No, he’s obviously the type who preys on those weaknesses. I’m going to show up with my chin held high.
I talk a big game while getting ready, but my bravado fades as I leave the townhouse, locking the door behind me. Thank God it’s Leeza’s day off because one look at my face and she’d know something is wrong. And something is wrong. So terribly wrong.
Hot moisture pushes at the backs of my eyes and I descend the stairs on shaking legs.
Ezra, where are you?
Ezra
Where the fuck is Ophelia going dressed like that?
I snarl into the cup of coffee I’m drinking in the cafe across the street from her townhouse. I’ve been sitting here for hours, restraining myself from going to see her. I couldn’t allow it until I have a rock-solid plan. No way I can ask Ophelia to give up so much for me. No way. I need something tangible to offer her—and I think I’ve just about figured out my play.
I told Ophelia’s father that I would beg, bargain and steal to have her in my life. Turns out, that won’t be necessary. I made a call to my colleagues in Michigan this morning, letting them know I had business to deal with in New York—also known as the hot brunette sashaying up the busy avenue in a scrap of leather—and might be delayed a while. That’s when they informed me of the sizeable fund they’d set aside in my honor. Money. Enough to keep Ophelia comfortable until I get my business off the ground.
Seven years ago, I wasn’t the only man my asshole employer made culpable without their knowledge. A handful of my co-workers were working in human trafficking without even knowing—and those men are still pissed about being duped, to this day. I avenged all of us when I burned down the warehouse. Not to mention, I saved them from eventually being investigated and possibly sent to prison for crimes they participated in against their will.
Some of the car parts were salvaged and sold to chop shops after the fire—and the money from those sales was set aside with my name on it.
I’ve got half a mil sitting in a bank in Michigan and I had no idea. My plan was to approach Ophelia’s father again tonight with a solid, yet frugal, plan to care for his daughter, but looks like plans have changed. Taking care of her is going to be a whole lot easier now, thank Christ.