Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
It's no wonder Daphne Parrish & Co is at the top of the game. They know how to dress curvy girls.
A row of cocktail dresses in the very back catches my eye. I practically float toward them, squeezing between boxes and shifting others out of the way. Halfway there, the alarm on the warehouse door sounds.
I stop, turning toward it. I'm not sure who or what I expect. Sariah. Maybe even Claudia or Troy. Certainly not a man dressed in all black with a mask over his face.
"Cut the fucking lights before someone sees us," he growls.
My blood runs cold as realization dawns. He isn't an employee, and he isn't here on business. I think he's robbing the place. And he brought help.
The lights cut off, plunging the warehouse into darkness.
I drop to my knees, my heart racing as pure terror fires through me. Holding my breath, I pray he didn't see me. Didn't hear me. I crawl deeper into the warehouse, moving slowly.
"Ignore the fabric boxes. We want the clothes. Get whatever you can carry and hurry the fuck up," the first man says.
"Man, your sister better not be lying about the resell value for this shit," someone else mutters.
"She's not," the first one says. "She knows her shit."
"She should. She's been working for these motherfuckers long enough." The second one laughs. "Think she has a clue that you swiped the code from her email?"
"Nah. She trusts me."
"What's up with the car in the parking lot?" a third voice says. "I thought you said this place would be empty."
I bite my lip, fighting back a terrified sob.
"It is empty, jackass. It's probably just someone who caught a ride. They had that fucking party yesterday. Probably drank too much," the first one says. "Grab some shit, and let's get the fuck out of here."
I wedge myself into the back corner, hiding behind a stack of boxes as they rob the place. Time stretches on and on, seemingly forever. I don't know how long they're inside. But eventually, they leave.
I stay right where I am, too afraid to move. Too afraid to breathe too deeply.
When I finally crawl from my hiding place, I don't go to the police. I run to the only person I know who makes me feel safe.
I run to Alaric.
Chapter Ten
Alaric
I spend all goddamn day looking into Cory Rhett, searching for every dirty secret he has. It turns out...the man doesn't have many. For a politician, he's infuriatingly above board.
His wife died in childbirth. He married his housekeeper, December's mom, over a dozen years ago. She died in a car accident three years later. He was a prosecutor before he went into politics, one notoriously tough on crime.
It seems the only thing the asshole treats with no regard is his stepdaughter. And fuck him very much for that. I still want to smash my fist into his face for it, but my initial blaze of fury has turned into a smoldering rage.
He won't hurt her again. I'll be damned before I allow that to happen. Even if she never forgives me for the insult she thinks I paid her last night, I'll protect her. I'm mad as hell that I wasn't doing it long before now.
She's needed me for the last six years, and I didn't know. I should have. She'll never need me again. I'll be there every damn day, whether she wants me there or not. I don’t think I could stay away if I tried.
It hasn't even been twenty-four hours and I spent half of the day stalking her on the security cameras. She seemed sad. All day, she smiled in all the right places and laughed at all the right times, but her smile faded too quickly. Her laughter died too soon.
She left early.
It's taking all my patience not to say to hell with my plans and drive over to her place. But if I'm going to win her heart by Christmas, I've got shit to do. Like figure out how the fuck to make it snow in Los Angeles.
I drop my head back against my chair, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe I should just kidnap her to my house in Big Bear for the holiday. There's plenty of snow there.
The doorbell rings while I contemplate the merits of my plan.
"What the fuck?" I tip my head forward, glancing at the clock on my desk. It's after ten. Who the fuck is at my door?
December.
Christ, please let it be December.
I jump to my feet, practically jogging through the house to the front door. My damn heart catches in my throat when I see my angel through the frosted glass.
I practically rip the fucking door off the hinges trying to open it.
"December?"
Something is wrong. She's pale and shaking, the knee of her leggings torn.