Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Silently, we step into the elevator, the entire ride spent with the two men gauging one another. It’s not until we’re out in the parking lot all of us secretly canvas the area without being obvious about it. Watching for threats that might be hiding, both of them likely assuming the other has orchestrated some sort of attack against the other.
There’s no one there, not a single guard waiting for my father, only his vehicle parked in the red zone, just in front of the private entrance meant only for the elite. Why he would travel without security, considering everything that’s happened, I don’t know. Then again, he must know what our most trusted guard did to us.
My father walks toward his vehicle and we follow, pausing when he pivots, his focus on me.
“We are going home,” he announces.
“Agreed,” Bastian says next.
The moment my father reaches back, tugging open his passenger door, I know there’s going to be an issue.
“Let’s go,” he demands, stepping aside and sweeping his arm out expectantly. “There’s much for us to discuss.”
“Now that’s an understatement.” Bastian almost laughs, wrapping his arm around me. “We’ll be at the mansion at eight a.m., ready to … talk.”
My father holds my gaze. “You will come back now.”
A small frown builds along my brow, and I look up at Bastian as he cocks his head at my dad and says, “Make that nine.”
My father is doing all he can to control his rage, everything within him fighting against what’s happening here. Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t pulled a gun out and placed it to the temple of the man at my side. My muscles are stiff and waiting for it.
His eyes come back to mine, and he studies me for a long quiet moment as if he’s trying to decide if a few more hours away from his grasp will leave me in a worse state than he thought I was in. His nostrils flare, his chest rising with a full breath.
Slowly, his attention moves to Bastian and he takes solid steps toward him, not stopping until they’re nearly chest to chest.
“If my daughter isn’t walking through the door of Greyson Manor by nine a.m. sharp …” He leaves the threat open, and when the only response he’s given is a nod, he moves to climb into the driver’s seat, but he doesn’t leave.
He pulls forward, parking right in front of Bastian’s car, and he waits.
With a clipped chuckle, Bastian gives my shoulder a slight squeeze before gripping my hand and leading me toward the vehicle. We climb inside, and then we’re on the road heading home.
I have no idea what we will find when we get there, but it can’t possibly be any worse than any of the other shit we’ve gone through.
I mean … right?
“I can feel you thinking,” Bastian finally says, his shoulders heavy and voice less sharp than normal.
The last few days have done a lot of work on him in ways I likely can’t imagine.
“My father is angry.” I look to Bastian after I say this. “You are angry.”
Bastian nods.
“What are we going home to, Bastian?”
His eyes leave the road for a fraction of a second to meet mine, his words, not the ones I want to hear. “A whole lot of fuckery, baby. Your world is shifting and you’re not going to like a lot of it. The only thing I can promise you is that you’re mine, and nothing will change that.” He reaches over, pulling my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles before gently nipping at the tips. “Nothing.”
That’s the last word spoken and what a bold one it is.
Chapter 37
Bastian
At no point on the drive does she ask where we’re going, just sitting back, trusting wherever it is I will lead her, but as we round the giant wall that protects the Greyson Estate from the outside world, she sits up in her seat, things coming back to her that the last few days have blocked out.
Slowly, her head swivels toward mine, but I don’t look and just keep curving around for another mile or so until we reach the back of it, where a second estate sits.
The mansion is just as ridiculous as the one she calls home but less kept up. As far as I was told, the place hasn’t been touched in decades, and I like it like that. There’s a twisted, haunted appeal to the place that fits me perfectly. It’s dark and gloomy and damn fitting of the shit I’ve used it for so far.
Hayze did have someone come in to fix some shit up though. Couldn’t have us sleeping on moth-eaten mattresses. The whole fucking place was furnished, heavy sheets and shit lying over some fancy-ass furniture, like some shit out of evil times. The chairs that surround the giant table, which I’ll never allow enough people in this house to fill, are straight-up thrones.