Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
But he has. And not only that, he’s embraced it.
I’m floored.
And so fucking happy. Perhaps naïvely so.
On that thought, my contentment wavers, and I’m brought back down to earth. Dinner tonight. I’ll open up. Be honest. Between now and then, I need to think about how the hell I explain. I’ll start from the beginning. Make him understand.
“Pearl?”
I blink and look up at Fury. He points to the open doors. “Oh, sorry, I was daydreaming.” I step out, smiling. “Did you know Otto has taken Es—” My smile drops, my words fade, and my heart jumps into my throat. The whole world spins around me, my past world and my current world, melding and blending into one, the sounds of the hotel lobby blurring into an unbearable white noise of screams from my other life.
He’s.
Here.
He’s here, and he’s sitting in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, watching the elevator doors.
Watching me stepping out.
Casual.
Thoughtful.
He knew I was here. How? Did he follow me? Track me? I wince, an old pain returning, and I reach up to my nape, rubbing at the scar.
* * *
I look back at Father as my mum hurries me around the landing. “You must be silent,” she says, her heels clicking on the wooden floor as I blindly stumble along behind her, my arm stretched out to keep hold of her hand.
I look through the wooden spindles and see my father swing the front door open. “Leave,” he demands.
“Or what?” He steps into the hallway, shoving Dad aside, looking around at the luxury. “Am I interrupting one of your cigar smoking, Scotch-drinking poncy parties?” He plucks the Cuban from Dad’s hold and sucks on the fat stick. “Why am I never invited?” he asks.
“Because you’re not, you immoral piece of shit.” Dad growls.
“Of course. You think I’m below you. You think I’m unworthy of the expensive smokes and swanky liquor.” He takes the crystal tumbler from Dad’s hand and knocks back the rest of his drink, including the ice cubes. Then he crunches hard and drops the glass to the marble floor. It shatters, making me flinch, as Mother gasps, dragging me on. “Oops.” Then he walks along the hallway, his arm stretched out, swiping all of Mother’s Royal Dalton figurines off the antique French cabinet.
“Get out of my house!” Dad roars, stomping toward him. His face, enraged, is the last thing I see before Mother tugs me through a doorway.
And the last thing I hear is her distressed whimper as she shuts me in the cupboard.
* * *
I lose my balance, wobbling, reaching for Fury’s arm. The monster smiles, as if knowing what I’m thinking, his chest expanding—an inhale of satisfaction.
“Pearl?”
I cough, tearing my eyes away from the man in the chair. “I tripped.”
Fury looks down at the smooth, even floor, and I walk on, feeling his eyes following me. I don’t breathe easy when we make it outside. I don’t breathe easy when we’re in the car. Not even when Fury’s driving me away.
“You sure you’re okay?” He looks across the car to me. “You look really pasty.”
“I’m fine.”
“Is this another panic attack?”
I swallow, feeling at my neck again, my windpipe closing. “Honestly, Fury, please, don’t worry.” I flex my clammy hands. “I’ve not eaten yet today.”
Fury expresses his disappointment, shaking his head, his attention still split between me and the road. Too much on me. “I think Brad might have something to say about that. Breakfast, Pearl. Always eat your breakfast.”
I smile meekly, looking in the side mirror. He’s come out the hotel and is getting in a black Audi. Following me.
Which confirms everything I knew.
He just wants me.
Not Brad, Danny, James, or anyone else.
He just wants me.
“I’ll make you something to eat when we get back,” Fury says, getting his phone out of his inside pocket and checking it. “Since Esther is out with Otto.”
“So you know,” I say, trying not to keep my eyes constantly on the mirror.
“Everyone knows except Esther. Do you think she’ll accept?”
I rub a palm into my chest. “Of course she’ll accept.” I peek at the mirror again, seeing the black Audi a few cars back.
Breathe.
I focus on taking in air steadily, constantly checking the mirrors, making small talk in an attempt to convince Fury I’m okay.
The Audi remains two cars back the entire way to the house. The gates open, and I nearly have a heart attack when I come face to face with Danny, James, Ringo, Goldie, Tank, and Len, all aiming machine guns at us.
“What the hell?” I exhale, pushing back in my seat as Fury pulls through the gates and cuts the engine.
“Stay in the car.”
He jumps out, catches another big gun that Tank throws his way, and all of them move toward the gate. “A black Audi,” Fury says. “Spotted it about two miles back.”