Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
I pressed the elevator button and got in. By the time I reached the lobby and stepped outside, my heart was having an entirely different conversation with my brain.
Nothing had really changed. I was still trying to figure out what the deal was with my “gift,” and Jack—crap, I meant King—hadn’t told me what I was dealing with when it came to Blondie.
Bottom line, my wagon was hitched to King’s. I had no choice but to trust that the little bit of good inside him would keep me safe. It had so far.
A black Mercedes sedan with tinted windows pulled up. The window in the back lowered, revealing those silvery eyes.
“Thought I told you to stay the hell here, Jeni.”
King. What was he doing in the back of that car? “Where’d you go?”
“Went to get my kingdom back. Get in.”
Huh? I hesitated, still having that debate between my head and heart. Meanwhile, a group of tourists passed us, doing several takes at King. It was hard not to look at him. He exuded power, like a living god.
Do not make me ask twice, he said inside my head and pushed open the door.
Strange how I was getting used to him intruding in my head. It almost felt natural. On the other hand, that familiarity had been with Jack. I needed to be on my guard with King.
“Wise choice, Miss Arnold,” he said.
He slid over, and I got inside, placing my bag at my feet. I shut the door, cocooning us in a quiet bubble. In the driver’s seat was an older man, with gray curly hair and a husky build. “Who’s he?”
“Niko Spiros. He’s an old friend.”
“Okay. Mind telling me what’s going on?” I had no idea who King really was—what he did for a living, how he suddenly had a chauffeur and an expensive car, or what he remembered about the people or person responsible for putting him in that box.
“Yes. I do mind.” King turned his attention to the front. “Head to the warehouse. From there we’ll go straight to my plane.”
“Very good, sir.”
Plane? He had a plane? Not that I cared, but it was difficult to reconcile Jack—no money, no identity, no memory—to King, the man who used to live in that blue Victorian with a vibe so dark, it had literally given Jack second thoughts. Why did Jack change his mind? Why did he put the cuff on? It had something to do with today’s date.
“All in good time, Miss Arnold,” said King.
“You need to give me some answers, or I’m not going anywhere with you. This time I mean it.” He couldn’t force me again. I wasn’t that weak fearful woman any longer. I could fight back.
A sadistic smile danced on his lips. “I’m beginning to like you, Jeni.”
Beginning? What about last night?
“That was fucking, not liking.”
“Well, I’m beginning to hate you. Again,” I added.
“Does my new suit frighten you?”
He didn’t mean the sleek black Italian thing he had on. He meant his new persona. Yes.
“Good.”
I shook my head. This cryptic crap was getting old. “So, are you finally going to tell me who you are?”
He smiled again. “You are about to find out.”
We arrived at the warehouse in silence, but this time, the sun was shining bright, the sky blue. I almost believed that King willed it.
Without any fanfare, he left the car and headed for the building, not bothering to bark instructions. He expected me to follow like his loyal dog. I wasn’t sure I had a choice, so I did.
I stepped inside the well-lit cavernous space, unable to believe my eyes. Those empty racks were now filled, just like I’d imagined. Cars, crates, paintings, sculptures, barrels of whisky, and cases of wine.
“I don’t believe it,” I muttered.
King didn’t bother looking over any of the stuff and headed toward the back to the stairs. I followed, trying to let it all soak in. King was a collector, like that woman said.
How had he hid it all? I bet he used one of his famous wards.
Very good, Jeni. Are you coming? his deep voice bellowed in my mind.
I followed the stairs to the second floor and found him up on a tall ladder. “Don’t touch anything. There are many dangerous objects in here.”
My gaze floated along the rows of shelves reaching the ceiling. On this floor, the objects were smaller. And possibly scarier.
I passed by a planter with Venus flytraps the size of bagels that seemed to be following me.
I scooted away, accidentally colliding with something on the shelves across from them. I yelped.
“Do not touch anything. I mean it.” King was already up to the very top of one shelf, rummaging around for something.
Right beside me, a gurgle came out of whatever I’d just bumped. I slowly swiveled my head and looked at the big jar with green bubbly stuff inside. “What’s that?”