Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 68102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“No one gets between me and my coffee,” she growled, pulling the mug toward her mouth.
He let it go, observing her carefully.
“If it’s affecting your sleep and health, I will get between you and your coffee.”
Uh-uh.
“Those there are fighting words,” she told him. “As in, I will fight you to the death to get my coffee.”
“To the death?” he queried, his lips twitching.
Did he think she was joking?
Because she really wasn’t.
“It’s all right, baby,” she whispered to her coffee before taking another sip. “I’ll look after you.”
Lord, it was even prepared perfectly with just the right amount of creamer.
How did he know?
Hmm.
“Miller prepared your coffee,” he told her as though reading her mind. He sat on an armchair by the bed. Had that been there last night? “She told me you’re quite particular about how you take your coffee. Although I think you would have drunk it no matter how it came this morning.”
He wasn’t wrong.
But she preferred it this way.
“It’s my favorite thing. I don’t need chocolate or donuts or cupcakes. Just coffee.”
“And a good nutritional, well-balanced diet,” he told her.
“That sounds boring.”
“It’s your life now,” he warned her as he grabbed the plate of food off the tray. She glanced down to see it held an omelet.
Hmm. Not too bad.
A bowl of cut-up berries and some yogurt were also on the tray.
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t eat yogurt.”
“No?”
“It’s so fake.”
“The yogurt is fake?” He looked confused.
“Yeah, it’s like it’s pretending to be healthy, but seriously, some of it has more calories and sugar and stuff than ice cream. And I’m just like . . . be who you are, yogurt. You know?”
“Not really,” he murmured, his gaze running over her face. “But I like you like this.”
She started to feel self-conscious. She probably looked like an absolute fright with crazy hair, plus she hadn’t properly removed her make-up last night, so no doubt that it was smudged all over her face.
She hid herself behind her mug.
But it seemed he wasn’t going to let her get away with that. Reaching out, he moved the cup away and tilted her face up with a finger under her chin.
“I like you like this,” he repeated in a firm tone. “Happy. Relaxed. It makes me realize that in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve always carried some stress. Which shames me.”
She frowned. “Why would that make you feel ashamed?”
“Because I never did anything to try to alleviate that stress. Because I didn’t push harder to find out the truth. I didn’t want you to retreat from me, so I avoided topics I thought might make you run. But I shouldn’t have because it put you at risk.”
She was confused. How had he put her at risk? Was he talking about last night?
“What happened last night wasn’t your fault,” she told him. “Oleg kidnapping me wasn’t something that anyone could have predicted.”
“Wasn’t talking about that, lass,” he said as he forked up some omelet and held it to her lips. “Eat.”
“I can feed myself.”
“Hmm, I’ve yet to see evidence of that.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He popped the omelet in before she could close her mouth again.
So sneaky.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight. You haven’t been eating. I don’t remember you ever eating at the restaurant. You were too busy running around putting out fires that your manager should have taken care of.”
Oh. Right.
“If I had dug deeper into what was going on with you, then I could have ensured that you were eating properly. And getting enough sleep. And I could have kept you safe from that ass-pig.”
She decided to be brave and reached over to cup his hand with hers. “You can’t take on all my shit as your own.”
“Ah, lass. That’s exactly what I intend to do.”
He was joking, right?
“But last night was just last night . . . you said that just for a few hours I’d be . . . well, I would be . . . um . . .”
“Mine,” he stated as he forked up some more of the eggs. She had to admit they were delicious, but her stomach was churning and she wasn’t sure she could eat anymore without it coming back up. “Open up.”
“Colm,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry about it right now, baby. I’ll take care of it all.”
She closed her eyes. How could she explain all of it? Make him see?
Because they still couldn’t be together, which is what he seemed to want.
God, Colm Finlayson wanted her.
It was her every wildest fantasy coming to life.
But it wouldn’t work.
There was no way. Sacha wouldn’t allow it to happen and she couldn’t lose him. Either of them.
Not to mention the fact that she was . . . broken.
That was the only word she could come up with to describe herself.
Oleg had broken her.
And now she couldn’t see a future in which she got to be happy. Where she could be free of all the restrictions. Of all the fear and worries.