Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
His fingers dug into my flesh. “I’ll say this once and only once. I love you for worrying about me and I’ll never dismiss your impressions or instincts, but regardless of what you think you know of Wallstreet or Grasshopper, they are good men. Honest men. I agree, to you it looks as if they’re using me, but, Cleo, this is an instance where you have to be patient and trust me.”
His hand came up to cup my cheek. “I would never let anyone else take advantage or screw me over. I’d kill them instantly. I went to prison for something that was a lie. I served time for people I thought cared about me, only for them to destroy me without a backward glance. Everything I’m doing is to ensure they never have the opportunity to screw anyone else ever again. And I will not rest until they’ve paid for what they’ve done. Do you understand?”
The ferocity in his eyes weakened my knees with sheer promise of bloodlust. “I understand.”
Running his thumb over my bottom lip, he nodded. “Good. Now, no more worrying about Wallstreet and his motives. Don’t look for flaws in the man who kept me alive and sane. But I can tell you that he’s been on my side since the day I met him. He’s put things in motion for me, given me a purpose, a plan—and a way to get even.”
My eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
His jaw tightened. “It means there is so much more than you know happening in the background. So much more than Pure Corruption and Dagger Rose. Bigger than anyone knows.” He went silent, almost as if wishing he hadn’t hinted at the depth of what he wasn’t telling me. But then he scowled and finished, “What I’ve been working on, Cleo, will mean my life won’t have been for nothing. That living those years in prison believing you were dead weren’t in vain. I’m owed this. You’re owed this. And Wallstreet is making that possible.”
A shiver darted down my spine. “But, Art—what are you planning—”
He pressed a finger over my lips, hushing me. Whispering softly, he said, “Let me worry about him. Trust me that it will all work out.” Ducking, he pressed a small kiss where his finger had been, murmuring, “I have something for you.”
The deliberate change of subject didn’t go unnoticed, but I forced myself to relax and let him continue to hide for a bit longer. “Oh?”
He took my hand, guiding me back to the safe. Stepping carefully over strewn photographs, he picked up a ring box.
A ring box?
Turning back to me, he held it out. “For you, Buttercup.”
My heart rate exploded. Conclusions tripped and collided. Was he going to propose all those years ago? Had he bought a ring only to think I died and held on to it all this time?
My hands shook like crazy as I took it.
Arthur chuckled. “It’s not what you think.” Placing his hand over mine, he added, “You gave me the Libra eraser because I told you you made more mistakes than anyone else I knew. I gave you this because I couldn’t figure out a way to tell you how fucking mad I was about you. I couldn’t sort out the love I had for the little girl I’d grown up with and the woman I saw you becoming. So I let something else show it instead.”
Never taking his eyes from mine, he helped me open the lid.
The moment I saw what rested inside, the past stole me away.
“Sneaky, Buttercup.”
I giggled as I climbed in through his bedroom window. It was past one a.m. and the compound, including our parents, was fast asleep. Arthur lay on the top of his covers in nothing but his silky boxers playing PlayStation.
My mouth went instantly dry. “I see you dressed up for me.”
His eyes trailed to his groin. I waited for him to bounce up and cover himself, to prevent any chance of something other than platonic friendship from happening.
But this time was different.
He let me stare.
He let me witness the rapid hardening of the part of him I wanted to see more than anything.
The room shimmered with lust.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he murmured. The tone of his voice was pure sex, sending wetness between my legs and an eternal throbbing that made me pine for his touch.
“I’m supposed to be wherever you are,” I whispered, breathless.
Art suddenly sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and patting the mattress beside him. “Come here.”
The command sent a delicious clench through my core. I couldn’t breathe. Seriously? He was finally going to give in to us?
Sitting nervously, I struggled to keep my eyes away from the erection now straining against the silk of his boxers.
Without a word, Art reached under his pillow and drew out a ring box. Dropping it into my lap as if he didn’t have the self-control to touch me, he breathed, “Here. This is for you.”