Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
He moved past me, giving me another whiff of his alluring scent before opening the door and standing back for me to exit.
Once we were in the hallway, alone, he looked down at me. “Your purse is being cleaned, and everything that can be salvaged inside will be. Whatever was ruined will be replaced. I’m going to have my driver take you home. Your car will be waiting for you at your place in the morning.”
I shook my head. “Just put my purse in a plastic bag. I’ll handle it all when I get home.”
He raised his eyebrows at me, as if my request was ridiculous. “Your purse was in a toilet. A used toilet.”
I covered my mouth, horrified. I had already guessed it was in a toilet, but she’d gone as far as to then use the toilet on top of it. That was sick. I hadn’t realized she was twisted as well as being cruel.
“Why would she do that?” I asked, shaking my head.
I didn’t understand what about me brought out such ugliness in her.
“She’s a jealous bitch. I would think, in your life, you’ve come across many of them. Nevertheless, that kind of treatment will not be tolerated in my establishment. If she wants to act like a criminal, then she can be treated like one as well.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said, Fawn. Now, come with me. My driver is waiting on you at the back entrance.”
He started walking, and I had no choice but to follow him. I was getting more annoyed by the way he was controlling everything. Giving me no choice in the matter. Just telling me what I was going to do. I wasn’t a child. I had been making my own decisions since I had been a sixteen-year-old girl, running away from an abusive foster home.
“I would like my things, and I want to drive myself home,” I stated as we stepped into the elevator.
“You’ll get your things tomorrow,” he replied.
“I want them now. I want my car,” I demanded.
His gaze swung to me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.
“No. I will not allow you to touch or see your things in their current state. You will be driven home in my car.”
I placed my hands on my hips and tried to glare at him, but it was difficult when my head was screaming, Back away. Danger. Proceed with caution.
“I don’t appreciate you making decisions for me.”
The elevator doors opened, and we were on the bottom floor.
Garrett raised a singular eyebrow at me. “I am helping you.”
Maybe so, but the way he did it made me feel as if I had no say so in any of it. He had found my purse. I should have thanked him, but he’d started controlling everything, and I had reacted to it.
I dropped my hands to my sides and let out a deep sigh. “Thank you for your help. It’s been a long day,” I explained.
“Yes, it has,” he replied, motioning for me to walk out of the elevator.
I went, suddenly feeling exhausted. My fight was gone. Let the man get my purse cleaned. What harm was in that?
Garrett walked to the door and opened it for me. I saw the Bentley he’d come to my camper in parked outside with the blond man he’d called Kye standing at the passenger door. He’d been leaning against it, but straightened when he saw me emerge from the building.
“Kye will see you home safely,” Garrett informed me. “Good night, Fawn.” Then, he closed the door and left me outside with this man.
I made my way to the car as he opened the door.
“Thank you,” I said to him, and he grinned.
I realized he was young. His smile was charming and not-at-all menacing.
“You’re welcome, Ms. Parker. There is a bottle of water waiting on you. If you would like something more, I can pour you some wine or champagne.”
I shook my head. “No. The water is good. Thanks.”
He nodded his head once, and then I climbed inside the car. The caramel-colored leather was soft and warm. The door closed behind me, and I buckled my seat belt as I took in the luxury. The car smelled like Garrett.
Closing my eyes, I laid my head back. This was a world I knew nothing of, and I doubted I’d ever set foot in a car this nice again. I wished I weren’t so mentally tanked and could enjoy the adventure.
Eight
Garrett
Placing false crimes on someone to have them locked up wasn’t moral, but I wasn’t moral. Besides, Eliana was getting a much easier punishment than if she were a man. The only reason I was handing her over to the police to deal with her was because the forms of punishment I dealt in would end with her dead. She was a lying, twisted bitch, but her crimes didn’t necessarily deserve death. Perhaps I was getting soft in my late forties. There had been a time I’d have handled her differently.