Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
There was a few seconds’ delay as the driver came around to my side. With a flourish, he opened the door and revealed the most immaculate villa in all of the Florida Keys. My mouth fell open at the stunning façade of the stone home with sweeping porticos and pastel accents. Strategic lights illuminated shrubbery and pathways, turning night into starlight.
“Wow,” I breathed as Arthur appeared, holding out his hand. “This is the party?” I couldn’t stop staring.
“It is indeed.” His fingers clamped around mine, pulling me from the car.
The moment I tottered on insanely high turquoise heels—also courtesy of Arthur’s chosen boutique store—I self-consciously smoothed down the thigh-length strapless dress.
“Who owns this place?” Up till now I thought Arthur’s mansion was slick and beautiful, but it looked clunky compared to the feminine beauty of this timeless villa.
Arthur smiled secretively. “A friend.”
My hackles rose at the thought of any friend living in such a place. “A female friend?”
Placing his hand on the small of my back, he pushed me down the glowing path. “No, jealous Buttercup. A man.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh. His ex-wife is an architect. Built this place, decorated it to rival any interior design magazine, then left him for a younger version.”
“Ouch.”
Arthur shrugged. “That was a while ago. Samson is now happily remarried and even has a brat or two, I believe.”
Carefully keeping my eyes on the decoration of white pebbles latticing the black pavers leading to the doorway, I asked, “You believe?”
Arthur’s touch turned protective as we scaled the three steps and stood poised at the front entrance. “We don’t talk about personal things. We’re friends because of mutual goals, but we aren’t about to go to each other’s birthday parties.”
Who was this unknown Samson? If he wasn’t a friend, why was he important in the scheme of things?
Standing on the threshold, I suffered nerves and butterflies. Was I enough? Had I done the best I could with my hair? My makeup? I’d taken the longest I’d ever done applying just the right amount of mascara and dusky pink lipstick, and I’d never fussed so much over my hair.
I’d even watched some online videos to attempt a fishtail braid, draping the tamed hair over my shoulder and finishing it with the black ribbon from the dress box.
But no matter how much I’d primped and painted, I still felt like a fraud—someone who looked the part but beneath was absolutely unprepared and a sham.
Arthur squeezed my hip, sensing my anxiousness. “Relax, Cleo.”
“But what if I say the wrong thing? I’ve avoided parties and social gatherings all my life. I’m always terrified of meeting someone I once knew and not being able to place them, or making small talk only to find amnesia devoured that piece of information, too.”
Sweat rolled down my spine, spreading my panic. I didn’t know why I was so close to freaking out. It wasn’t like I didn’t have my memories this time, and I had Arthur by my side.
But that inescapable fear still clutched me.
Looking into his calming emerald eyes, I begged, “Please don’t leave me alone tonight. Promise you’ll stay by me?”
With a gentle smile, he dragged me into his embrace, cocooning me in his arms.
Instantly, I relaxed, feeding off his peacefulness, his capable, unflappable ease. “I promise I’ll never take my eyes off you.”
I exhaled in relief. “Thank you.”
Arthur’s jaw-length hair was swept off his face in a slick ponytail. From the front, he looked like a distinguished businessman in a tailored charcoal suit and tie, but from the side—with his rugged jaw, roguish hair, and bulging arms threatening the seams of the suit—the truth was visible.
He was dangerous.
He was a man not to be messed with.
He played with the ribbon in my hair. “You know me so well, Buttercup. You know my thoughts, my heart, my past. But you’re still blind to what my life truly entails.” He pulled me tighter against his body. “Tonight, you’ll see the truth. You’ll see the other world I exist in, the one run by politicians and democrats rather than bikers and gasoline.” Kissing my forehead, he magically smoothed away my final nerves. “This is yet another facet of my life.”
The door swung open, revealing a butler dressed all in black with combed balding hair. “Welcome, Mr. Killian.”
A security guard I hadn’t seen ghosted from the shadows behind one of the pillars. His eyes were shielded by dark glasses—even though it was far too gloomy to need them.
Why was there security detail for a simple house party?
Because this isn’t a simple house party.
I wasn’t stupid. Even though my lack of memory often made me seem that way. Whatever Arthur was coordinating relied on something to do with this evening’s success.
I don’t mean to ruin it for him.
“And who shall I say is accompanying you tonight, Mr. Killian?” The kind-faced butler smiled in my direction.