Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Excitement bubbled inside me as we headed toward Cape Hill. Macalister would be at the office for a few more hours, and even if Alice was on the property . . . she wasn’t allowed in the house. With Vance being in his first year of law school, he was a virtual ghost. I only saw evidence he’d been at the house, but never the man himself.
It meant that, outside the staff, Royce and I would be the only people home.
Would he tell me everything now? We’d rarely been alone at the hospital—never long enough to have the conversation he’d promised. It felt like he would. There was a tension between us. It wasn’t unpleasant—it was anticipation.
In addition to the rain, it was a foggy afternoon, and as we drove up the circle drive toward the Hale mansion, the impressive house didn’t come into view until we’d pulled up to the front steps. Would I ever get used to living here?
And . . . did I want to stay?
I’d won back my freedom, which meant I could escape. There was zero risk of accidentally running into Alice or Macalister in a hall or the kitchen if I wasn’t living under their roof.
But it meant I’d be farther away from both my school and my fiancé, and back with my parents, who’d probably try to squeeze me for money every chance they got. Not to mention, it’d only be temporary. My wedding date to Royce had been set at the beginning of June. I could move out, but I’d have to be back in six months.
It barely seemed worth the effort.
I promised myself I wasn’t going to make my decision tonight. Six months might feel like a lifetime if Macalister didn’t stick to his word and stay out of my relationship with his son.
“You okay with the stairs?” Royce asked, hesitating with his hand on the car door as we prepared to duck out into the rain.
Earlier, the long walk from my hospital room to the elevator bank had left me surprisingly winded. He was worried about me, but I gave him a sweet smile. “I’m fine, I promise. But thank you.”
Last time I’d been chauffeured and arrived at this house in the rain, it’d been his graduation party, and I was struck by how much things had changed since then. He’d been the manipulative prince of Cape Hill and I’d been a nobody. Just the weird Northcott sister who’d reluctantly tagged along.
This time when I scurried up the steps in the cold drizzle, Royce put a protective hand on my elbow and hurried alongside me.
The house always felt cavernous, but it was much worse today. The tall ceilings stretched up for miles, and when my gaze landed on the grand staircase, I shivered. I still remembered how the fibers of the red carpeted steps felt against my skin. My stomach twisted with an aftershock of disorientation. I’d been so sure I was going to die there, either from the drugs or a fall.
Royce’s hand crept around mine and squeezed. “Are you hungry? Should I tell Carla to make us something?”
“No, thanks.”
I couldn’t stop staring at the staircase and forced my gaze upward. Something was . . . different. I blinked in confusion as I looked at the landing and the empty wood paneled wall. “Where’s the picture?”
“The family portrait?” He tried to disguise the unease in his voice. “My dad got rid of it.”
Like a cliché, the large painting had been of the Hale family. Alice angled and seated in a formal chair and Macalister behind her, his sons flanking him on either side. It was regal and pompous as hell.
Now it was gone.
I couldn’t shake the feeling Macalister had removed it in a fit of rage. The image of him yanking down the canvas and ripping it apart, tearing Alice from the rest of the family, played in my mind. He couldn’t remove her legally. Divorce was failure, and Macalister didn’t do defeat. So, destroying the portrait and banishing her from his life would be the closest he could come.
“I need to change,” Royce said, glancing down at his suit. He tugged on my hand, pulled me toward the stairs, and kept his tone casual. “Come on.”
When we passed by the library, a coiled circle of black fur on the back of the chair lifted its head and appraised us with apple green eyes. Lucifer was in his favorite spot, and he liked it more than his master, apparently, because even though Royce was now home, the cat looked at us with indifference before putting his head back down and returning to sleep.
He was so fickle, just like his owner.
We’d been together for months, but I’d only been in Royce’s room a handful of times. Was he a naturally tidy person, or was the staff quick to make up his room after he left the house? It always looked perfect, like a set for a glamorous magazine shoot—