Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
After everything happened with Dylan, I couldn’t concentrate, either. I had to put in an immense amount of effort just to focus on things that used to be a piece of cake, and knowing the timing couldn’t be a coincidence made it that much worse. I wanted to be fine. I wanted to put it behind me and forget it. I wanted to fucking erase it from my past and go on like it had never happened.
I just couldn’t.
The reason I can’t concentrate is different this time, though. It’s not the trauma fucking up the wiring in my brain. It’s… him.
As I make my way off campus, I find myself anticipating returning home, but it’s not the simple act of returning I’m thinking about.
I told Silvan goodbye, and I swear he smirked like he considered it a challenge.
Some part of me expects to go home and find him leaning against the wall outside my dorm, a smirk on his handsome face.
He’s a bastard, but he is handsome.
The sight of a sleek black limousine pulling up to the crosswalk stops my heart.
I thought I’d probably see him again, but I didn’t think he’d be so bold as to…
Hugh leaves the car running, checking behind him as he gets out and then walks around to my side. “Miss Bradwell,” he says with an amiable nod.
“What are you doing here? Is Silvan…?”
Hugh shakes his head as he opens the door. “Master Silvan sent me to pick you up. It’s a chilly day. He doesn’t want you walking.”
“I…” I look at the car, a frown flickering across my face. “No. Last time, this was a trick.”
“It’s not a trick,” he assures me. “No loopholes. Silvan won’t be meeting you this evening. The car is just for you.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not risking it. I don’t mind walking.”
“He thought you might say that. He wants you to text him.”
“And I want him to leave me alone. I guess neither of us will get what we want.”
“I see,” Hugh says, though he sounds disappointed.
A car pulls up behind his limo—since he wasn’t supposed to stop where he did to pick me up—and leans on the horn.
“Miss Bradwell, I’m afraid I’ve been explicitly instructed not to leave without you. I’m not sure if I’ll get in more trouble for disobeying Master Silvan or for disobeying traffic laws, but if you could just get in the car while we figure this out, I would be immensely relieved.”
My stomach sinks at the notion of getting Hugh in trouble. At the same time, I don’t want to fall into another of Silvan’s traps.
And he probably expected I would feel that way.
I’m a bit miffed and also mildly impressed that he tailored this to put the responsibility on me to save Hugh from whatever trouble he’ll get into if I hold my ground.
“He’s such a jerk,” I mutter, grabbing my phone and tapping the message we exchanged last night. “Tell your driver he can leave,” I type, then press send.
“Nope,” he responds instantly. “Not without you.”
“I am not getting into your rape-mobile and being delivered to you like a lamb to slaughter,” I inform him. “I fell for that once. It won’t work again.”
“It’s not a trap this time,” he promises. “Not a technicality, either. I swear I won’t be meeting you there or along the way. I have family business in New York today. We won’t even be in the same state until you’re safely sleeping in your bed.”
I narrow my eyes at the screen. “I’m not taking the chance. I don’t need a ride that badly.”
“Have I ever lied to you, Sophie?”
Maybe it’s his deliberate use of my name, but the words make my stomach sink.
He has definitely deceived me, but has he actually lied to me? I can’t easily pick out a lie from my memory, so maybe there isn’t one. Maybe he’s just very, very slippery and adept at navigating all the loopholes in the things he says.
A minuscule part of me is impressed by how deliberately he puts together words to reassure me with untruths and get exactly what he wants. I can’t lie to save my life, and he’s turned it into an art form.
“You’re very manipulative,” I tell him.
“Thank you.”
I almost laugh. “My god, that wasn’t a compliment.”
“Anyway, it’s not just a ride. I put you through a lot this weekend. I think you deserve a little pampering today. Hugh will take you shopping.”
“I don’t have money to go shopping.”
“I know, that’s why Hugh also has one of my credit cards. Buy whatever you want. Perhaps a warmer coat,” he suggests. “You seemed cold last night.”
“I can buy WHATEVER I want?”
“Yep. Get yourself some dinner, too. He’s taking you to Newbury Street. If you don’t know where to eat, Hugh will have some recommendations for you.”