Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“I guess,” I murmured as I saw the shoes, which were a simple black pump, even though I knew the price on them wasn’t simple at all. I looked at the time and it was nearly three thirty. Once my dad walked in, I headed to the bathroom and started to get dressed.
“Well you look beautiful.” My father smiled as he stood up from his seat and watched me come out of the bathroom.
“You think?” I smiled gently at him.
“Daimon treats you well. I'm glad,” my father said softly. If he only knew.
“Daimon is good to me, Daddy.” I smiled reassuring him.
“I am,” his cocky voice snapped me right back to reality. “Hello, Mr. Sakis,” Daimon said to my father as he reached out his hand and shook it.
“Hello, Daimon. I see you’re taking my Addie with you tonight.”
“I promise to have her home safely. I just wanted my family to meet her,” he smiled at my dad. “Well?” Daimon reached out his hand and waited for me to take it. I begrudgingly took his hand and he led me out to his car, which was parked right out front.
“Get in, Addie,” Daimon said as he unlocked the car doors. “So I treat you well do I?” he smirked as he walked around the front car.
“Don’t push it, asshole. I'm still pissed,” I hissed as I got in.
“Wow, Addie, here’s hoping that mouth of yours stays bitter and angry all night. Maybe I’ll have some entertainment.” He put his car into gear and drove off.
“Screw you,” I bit out as I sat back into my seat and stared out the window. Daimon merely laughed.
He drove us to a gorgeous home with a stone façade and plenty of windows. He parked the car and waited for me to get out.
I nervously stood there. An intricate iron railing lined the stone steps that lead to two large dark wooden doors. There I stood in front of a four-story home in the middle of Manhattan. It must have been over a hundred-years-old, with its various high pointed rooftops and arched windows. Daimon took my hand and up we went to what I was certain would be one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life. He rang the bell and a few moments later a butler opened the door.
“Mr. Evans,” the butler said in a monotone voice.
“Henry,” Daimon said as we passed him. I pulled on his hand making Daimon stop.
“It’s going to be all right, Addie. No one is going to hurt you here. No one would dare to. You’re mine. Remember that,” he said as he watched me closely.
I didn’t feel like his, I felt nervous and lost. This was way out of my comfort zone. The foyer itself was bigger than my home and diner put together. Large paintings and expensive looking vases were placed everywhere. I was too afraid to even walk on the beautiful line carpet that headed inside. “Come on,” Daimon said under his breath.
“Is that you, Daimon?” I heard who I assumed was his mother.
“Yes, it’s me,” he said sounding already annoyed.
“I'm glad you’re here. I met someone today and invited her to stay for dinner,” she said happily.
Once Daimon and I turned the corner of this enormous home, I was confronted by a scene right out of Dallas, the TV show that is. A large fireplace was situated in the middle of the room lined with dark wood paneling. Large white drapes gracefully fell over the windows that looked outside to the busy streets of New York. That’s right, I was still in New York City. I stood awestruck at the sheer lavishness of the room. His mother, who looked younger probably due to plastic surgery, stopped what she was about to say. A thin line appeared where her lips were as she rose up from her seat and headed toward us.
“I’ve invited Clara,” she said looking at me. Her eyes were piercing right through me. “But I see you have also invited your own little friend,” she said with such disdain that I already felt horrid about being here.
“You have your friends and I have mine,” Daimon said as he squeezed my hand.
“I can see that.” She gestured for us to walk in. “So I'm assuming this is the Addie who Clara has spoken so highly of.” She looked at me as she pointed to the couch that faced her. Daimon, still holding onto my hand, sat us both down in front of her.
“Yes, I'm Addie Sakis,” I said quietly.
“It’s nice to meet you, Addie. You can call me Cindy. So I hear you work with your father at his little restaurant,” Cindy said coldly.
“Yes.” I knew I was walking into a minefield. I needed to tread lightly and carefully choose my words.
“It must have been hard to lose your mother at such a tender age, is that why you work with your father?” Cindy asked. I felt like I had just been hit, like a bomb blew up in my face. Daimon slowly turned his head at me and looked at me like all the pieces of who I was finally fit.