The Mister Read online E.L. James

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
<<<<314149505152536171>159
Advertisement2


“Will I see Alessia again?”

“I hope so.” But there’s no way on earth she’s coming back here while those bastards are on the loose.

Magda turns to Alessia. “Good-bye, sweet girl,” she whispers.

Alessia hugs Magda and clings to her. “Thank you,” she says as tears begin to trickle down her face. “For saving me.”

“Hush, dear girl,” Magda murmurs. “I would do anything for your mother. You know that.” She releases Alessia and holds her at arm’s length. “You are so strong and brave. You will make your mother proud.” She cups Alessia’s face and kisses her cheek.

“Say good-bye to Michal for me.” Alessia’s voice is strained and soft and full of sorrow. And my heart constricts.

Am I doing the right thing?

“We will both miss you. Maybe one day you’ll come to Canada and meet my wonderful man?”

Alessia nods, but she’s too choked up to say anything else, and she leaves through the front door while trying to wipe away her tears. I follow her, holding all that she has in the world.

Outside on the path, Dene Hamilton surveys the street. Tall, broad-shouldered, with close-cropped black hair, he’s more menacing than his refined gray suit suggests. He’s ex-army, like Tom, and it shows in his alert stance. He’ll work in a shift pattern with another bodyguard who’ll be arriving in the morning. Tom’s people will safeguard Magda and Michal around the clock, and they’ll remain until the two of them leave for Canada.

I stop to shake Hamilton’s hand.

“We’ve got this, Lord Trevethick,” he says, his dark eyes gleaming beneath the streetlamp as he scans the road and misses nothing.

“Thank you,” I reply. It still catches me off guard when I’m addressed by my title. “You have my number. Contact me if they need anything.”

“Will do, sir.” Hamilton gives me a gracious nod, and I follow Alessia. She averts her face when I put my arm around her, perhaps to hide the fact that she’s still crying.

Am I doing the right thing?

With a brisk wave to Magda, who’s standing on the doorstep, and to Hamilton, I lead Alessia to the F-Type. I unlock it and hold the passenger door open for her. She hesitates, her expression strained. I reach up to stroke her jaw with the back of my hand. “I’ve got you.” My tone is gentle, to reassure her. “You’re safe.”

Alessia throws her arms around my neck and hugs me hard, totally taking me by surprise. “Thank you,” she whispers, and before I can respond, she releases me and climbs into the car. I ignore the knot in my throat and put both her bags in the boot and climb in beside her.

“This will be an adventure,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. But Alessia gazes at me, her eyes brimming with sorrow.

I swallow.

I’m doing the right thing.

Yes.

I am.

But maybe not for the right reasons.

I exhale, push the ignition, and the engine growls into life.

Chapter Ten

I turn the Jaguar left onto the A4 and speed along the three-lane highway. Alessia is hunched down in the passenger seat with her arms wrapped around herself, but at least she’s remembered to put on her seat belt. She’s staring out at the passing industrial buildings and car showrooms, but occasionally she wipes a sleeve across her face, and I know she’s still crying.

How can women cry so quietly?

“Do you want me to stop for tissues?” I ask. “I’m sorry I don’t have any.”

She shakes her head but doesn’t look at me.

I understand why she’s emotional. What a day. If I’m astounded by today’s events, she must be overwhelmed. Completely overwhelmed. I think it’s best if I leave her alone to gather her thoughts. Besides, it’s late, and I have to make some calls.

I press the phone icon on the touch screen and find Danny’s number. The sound of its ringtone echoes through the car via the hands-free system. Within two rings she answers.

“Tresyllian Hall,” she says in her familiar Scottish brogue.

“Danny, it’s Maxim.”

“Master Maxim…I mean—”

“It’s okay, Danny, don’t worry,” I interrupt her, with a quick glance at Alessia, who’s now looking at me. “Is the Hideout or the Lookout available this weekend?”

“I think they’re both available, my—”

“And next week?”

“The Lookout is booked for a weekend clay shoot.”

“I’ll take the Hideout, then.”

Appropriate.

“I need”—I glance at Alessia’s pale face—“I need two of the rooms made up and some of my clothes and toiletries brought over from the Hall.”

“You’ll not be staying at the Hall?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Two rooms, you say?”

I had hoped for one….

“Yes, please. And could you ask Jessie to stock the fridge for breakfast and maybe a snack tonight. And some wine and some beer. Tell her to improvise.”

“Of course, milord. When will you be arriving?”

“Late tonight.”

“Of course. Is everything all right, sir?”

“Everything’s fine. Oh, and, Danny, can we get the piano tuned?”


Advertisement3

<<<<314149505152536171>159

Advertisement4