Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“You’re insane. You’re a stalker.”
“All true, and still doesn’t change the fact that I’m the only person who gives a damn about you. I want you to be happy.”
“You want me to be obedient. You’re just another asshole trying to control my life.”
“I want you obedient in some ways.” His smile was sickening and suggestive. “But in others, I prefer it when you’re willful.”
“You still haven’t answered the question. You could have any woman in the world. Why me?”
He seemed to think about it as he relaxed his grip and pulled back. He touched his bottom lip and I imagined biting it hard enough to make it bleed, and wondered if he’d like that.
“Trying to answer that question is like trying to explain why I enjoy good whiskey, or jazz music, or the feeling of rain on a warm summer night. You’re ineffable to me, Penny. You’re graceful, and beautiful, and funny. I love the way you laugh and wrinkle your nose. I love how angry you get. I love the pink of your skin. I love your plump lips and how your nipples stiffen when you’re excited.”
I shifted side to side. “They do not.”
“They do, my pet. I know more about you than you know about yourself. I know you get the hiccups if you laugh too much. You hate raw carrots, but you’ll eat them cooked. You like cotton but think synthetic fibers are itchy, and I agree, by the way. You love the smell of lavender, and the smell of cooking fish makes you nauseous—but you love to eat it. I’ve studied you, Penny, in a way that nobody else has, because I’m the only one that ever cared for you.”
I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, and I kept thinking—
What if he was right?
He did know me. I couldn’t deny it. Everything he said was true, and he likely knew even more than he was letting on. I’d seen the way he watched me with those careful eyes, always studying, always measuring and weighing, and he’d been doing it for years and years.
Nobody else had ever bothered to learn me like he had.
It was terrible. I had always wanted someone to care about me as deeply as he seemed to and yet Kaspar took it too far. He took too much and although he said he cared, it was only superficial.
I was a doll to him, like I was a doll to everyone else.
A little toy for him to play with.
So what if he liked my laugh and thought I was pretty?
None of that mattered.
He didn’t give a damn about me.
“You’re wrong,” I said softly, shaking my head.
“Tell me who wants you like I do.”
“Nobody does, but whatever you feel isn’t real, Kaspar. It’s just obsession. You want to own me, but that’s not what love is.”
He leaned across the seat, inches away from my lips.
“Who said anything about love? I want to fuck you and keep you, little toy.”
I stayed perfectly still until he pulled away.
The SUV stopped in front of a nondescript building on a quiet, narrow block. Kaspar got out and gestured for me to follow. He led me into a house, clean and tidy, recently updated though not nearly as expensive and lavish as the hotel, and showed me to a room.
It was comfortable, but plain.
“This is where we’ll stay until our business in Rome is complete.”
“You own this place?”
“It’s one of my safe houses. I had hoped that I could keep you in the manner to which you’ve been accustomed, but unfortunately tonight proved I’ll have to be more careful.”
I sat on the bed and shook my head sadly. “If you think I care about pretty hotels and nice views, you don’t know me at all.”
He stared at me from the doorway then left me alone.
I leaned back on the bed and closed my eyes.
I heard the screams of men dying. Smelled the blood and piss and vomit and shit.
And felt Kaspar’s hand on my wrist, yanking it back.
Not love. It wasn’t love.
Obsession. Desire.
Hot and painful, but brief.
He’d burn himself out—and then what?
I’d be nothing.
A dove in a cage.
That was all I’d ever be.
8
Penny
Present Day
Rome, Italy
The house might’ve been simple and small, but it had everything I needed, and the back yard was pretty. An olive tree cast its shade over a metal table, and I sat sipping an espresso while nearby an old woman sang. I didn’t understand her accent, but the melody was haunting and sweet.
Three days since the attack. I expected something to happen—some kind of aftermath—but my boredom only got worse. Kaspar stayed somewhere else, and stopped in most evenings to check on me, like I was a dog he left home while he went to work. The bodyguards kept me company, though they mostly stayed away. Only Scott spoke to me, and even he seemed hesitant to hold a conversation.