Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Didn’t I, though?” He folds his hands in front of him. “Should I throw you back over my shoulder? Or will you make one thing easy today?”
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I am not going into that house.” My voice loses the fight, and I just sound pathetic.
“Why? It’s a fantastic house. I think you’ll rather enjoy it.”
“I can see it’s fantastic. Perfect even,” I seethe. “That’s not the fucking point.”
He huffs out a breath. “You’re making no sense.”
“It’s what the house represents,” I blurt out, not meaning to. I didn’t want to give him any insight into what I was feeling, but he infuriates me so much that it just sprung out.
“Still not following you, firefly.” He shrugs, and I want to get out of the car just to punch him in his smug face.
“Will you stop calling me that?”
His lips thin as though he’s contemplating my request. “No. Now, tell me…what does my house represent?” He throws my words back in my face, and my anger intensifies.
I climb out of the car and step into his face so we’re practically toe-to-toe.
“It’s blood money, and all that blood is on your hands.”
I don’t wait for a response, walking around him toward the house, needing some space and wanting my words to sink in. It doesn’t take long before he’s approaching.
“You don’t know a fucking thing about me,” he grits through his likely clenched teeth.
I ruffled his feathers. Good.
His hand wraps around my wrist, spinning me around to face him.
“I said…you don’t know anything about me.” He repeats the words.
“I don’t want to know anything about you, Gideon.”
I whip back around, needing to get away from him. I’m not sure where I’m going, but I refuse to be a part of this game.
The distance doesn’t prevent me from hearing his words. “The kitten has claws.”
“Should we clip them?” one of his goons asks, and my shoulders stiffen.
“No, I like my guests feisty.”
“Ugh.” I ball my hands into fists and pick up my pace.
I don’t even make it a few feet before arms wrap around me.
“Let me go,” I yell, flailing in his arms.
“Are you going to play nice?”
“Nope.”
“Then I’m not going to let you free.”
He tightens his hold, and no matter how much I squirm. I can’t get loose. Not when he starts walking, not when he opens the door, and certainly not when he stops in the foyer.
If I ever wondered about my strength, I now know. Against this man, it’s nothing. I can’t beat him physically, but I can beat him mentally.
I stop trying to get free.
Not just because my attempt is pathetic, but also because my mouth is hanging open in shock.
This place is incredible and not at all what I would expect.
Everywhere I look there are ornate details and intricate craftsmanship — from the marble floors to the gilded chandelier that hangs above me. As I take it all in, a feeling of awe washes over me. My eyes wander to the twin staircases that lead to the upper floors, both lined with red carpets and framed by mahogany banisters.
Holy crap.
“Good girl,” he praises.
Those simple words snap me out of my thoughts and, for some sick reason, also just about undo me. Heat pools in my center, and I don’t know how to stop it. I feel my body relax despite my wishes, and he doesn’t miss it.
“Firefly…do you like praise?”
I don’t answer because I refuse. Gideon won’t get another thing from me.
When he realizes I’m not going to respond, he swoops down and lifts me back over his shoulder on a yelp, carrying me up one of the grand staircases. It’s hard to see much from the position of my body. Flung over his shoulder and upside down, I don’t miss that he’s now walking down a long corridor.
A few feet away, I see two figures down the hall. I squint my eyes to see them better. Who are they? Maybe they can help me? But when my gaze catches one of them, my pleas become lodged in my throat.
There in the corner, cloaked by darkness, is a large man, but that’s not what makes my breath catch. It’s the look in the woman’s eyes that has me shaking.
Fear.
She’s shivering in fear at whatever the man in the shadows says. Is she here against her will, like me? Is that man hurting her?
Gideon throws open a door before I know what’s happening, and the man and woman in the hallway are now an afterthought as I’m being flung onto a large four-poster bed.
“Right now, I’m going to close the door and lock it,” he says as if he’s giving flight instructions on a plane.
Like he’s done this before. Maybe to the woman in the hall? I know this man is a drug dealer, but is he a trafficker too? My stomach lurches at the thought. This can’t be happening.