Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
She’s as elegant as ever in a sleek grey sheath dress, her slim fingers brushing her blonde bob back from her sharp jawline, but I barely notice.
I’m staring at my father.
God help me.
He’s a dark cameo of old-school style and dashing, devil-may-care looks behind a smooth smirk.
Their eyes flick over us like we’re for sale and they’re just considering the price, but it’s when they look at me that I die inside.
They know.
There’s something strange in those haunted green eyes that match my own as Montero Arrendell—as my father—looks at me.
As his gaze lingers, weirdly distant, that remote smile fading and leaving something thoughtful and strange.
I might never notice, if not for the other pair of eyes burning like a laser.
But Lucia’s stare is all cold hatred.
To her, I’m a living reminder of how often her husband must’ve strayed, and now I’ve invaded her house.
My stomach sinks.
I shrink away behind Grant.
Especially when Montero won’t stop looking at me.
Like he’s trying to understand this fantastic new creature in front of him, oblivious to Lucia tossing her hair and eyeballing Grant like a judge ready to hand down a sentence.
“How many times must you barge into my home in one week, Captain Faircross?” she bites off.
“Don’t,” Grant growls. “Lady, I don’t have time for your offended bullshit. My little cousin’s missing. Pretty sure she ran off with Ros, and Ros is always with Aleksander. She’s not answering her phone. So I’d damn well appreciate it if you could tell me where your two lovebirds went.”
Lucia smirks. “I’m afraid they’re a little out of your reach. Come now, what are you worried about? If the little girl’s with them, they’ll take good care of her, certainly.”
The emptiness in her voice makes my heart fall out.
For the first time, I’m afraid for Nell and Ros both.
Grant’s knuckles strain in hard ridges as he stomps forward, baring his teeth.
I pull back on his arm, shaking my head with a whisper.
“Grant. Don’t.”
Meanwhile, Montero keeps staring at me like a statue, his gaze blank and impenetrable.
How could he?
How could they?
What the hell was my mother thinking?
And with Ros, if they knew—if they just stood back and watched and let it happen, let Aleksander play this sick game...
Grant goes stock-still.
“Don’t make me arrest you both,” he snarls. “And fuck the consequences to my career. Tell me where they are.”
“On the coast by now,” Lucia answers haughtily, her lips curving smugly. “They’ve eloped. My dear son wouldn’t wait for a fairy-tale wedding. Since Rosalind’s practically family”—she pauses and sends me a cutting look—“and since I couldn’t be supportive enough of their little relationship, they’ve taken matters into their own hands, I’m afraid. There’s a priest waiting to marry them on Aleksander’s private yacht at Wrightsville Beach.”
Crap.
Aleksander must have pressured her.
Somehow, he must’ve known the clock was ticking, so he wants to bring this horrible game to its conclusion before it’s too late.
Marry her so she’ll stop resisting and he can have his way, and then he’ll get what he wants.
An abomination.
“Why didn’t you stop them?” I whisper before I can stop myself. I’m talking to Lucia, but I’m locked on Montero, eye to eye, searching for—
I don’t even know.
Something.
Some vague recognition of a man I could call my father, some hint of humanity or just regret.
I don’t find either as I clear my throat and force myself to speak.
“Why did you let them?”
Montero finally looks away.
He’s hiding his face from me now, looking to the side. Maybe there’s the faintest human conscience in there somewhere, or he’s just annoyed at getting caught.
But it’s Lucia who answers confidently.
“Frankly, I’m glad they decided to do it this way. Big weddings are such work, and who am I to get in the way of my son’s happiness?” she purrs.
“Get fucked,” Grant says bluntly. “Call him right now. Keep calling him until he answers. That yacht better not leave the fucking docks. And you call the wedding off ASAP. That’s not a request.”
He turns sharply then, stalking away.
“Grant?!” I pelt after him.
“Let’s go,” he snarls. “It’s a three-hour drive to Wrightsville Beach.”
I’m completely exhausted, running on total willpower.
Little Nell’s still not picking up.
The last few hours have been a whirlwind from hell.
Constantly calling Nell and Ros while Grant coordinates with both Redhaven and Wrightsville PD officers. He’s also sent Lucas and Micah and Henri up to the big house to make sure the Arrendells follow his orders. They report back in when Aleksander still won’t answer his phone.
My fingers work the screen furiously between calls, messaging my sister again and again, begging for an answer.
He’s our brother! You can’t marry him.
Mom had an affair with Montero Arrendell and he’s our father.
Wherever you are, run! The police are coming. Whatever you do, don’t let him pressure you into anything.
This is so not how I wanted this travesty to go.