Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I kept my hold on the door handle and stared him down, matching his stoniness with my coldness.
He shifted his weight slightly, straightening his shoulders as if I were an opponent rather than his fiancée. Whenever this man was near me, his posture was always hostile. Maybe that was directed me—or maybe that was just how he was.
“Are you going to invite me inside, or should I just barge in like usual?”
My hand gripped the handle because I was tempted to slam the door in his face. “Why are you here?”
“Your father told me you were looking after him.” Instead of waiting for my invitation, he stepped inside and pushed past me.
I stared at the landscape through the door, the red geraniums blooming out of the pots along the walkway. It was a beautiful day, but I was in no mood to enjoy it. I shut the door and turned around. “You knew the entire time.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Yes.” At over six feet, he made a dent in the enormous room. His muscled shoulders stretched out his blazer, and his veined hands peeked out from the ends of his sleeves. His jeans were snug, showing the definition of his muscular legs in some places. He was a beautiful man with a beautiful body—but an ugly soul.
“And you didn’t think you should mention that to me?”
“It’s not my place.”
Hearing that my father was dying was horrifying—no matter who said it. “He’s sleeping right now.”
“I’m not here for him.”
“I hope you aren’t here for me—because I’m not yours yet.”
The corner of his mouth rose in a smile, like he found my attitude comical rather than intimidating. Sometimes, Dante was put off by my brashness, and other men didn’t appreciate it either. They said I was too much to handle. But Maverick clearly thought I was a joke. “I have something for you.” He pulled out a small black box from his pocket then stepped toward me. He snapped open the top and revealed a princess cut diamond ring with diamonds along the band. The diamonds were clearly flawless—because they were practically blinding.
I stared it, shocked that Maverick was capable of picking out something so elegant and stunning. It was exactly the ring I’d always dreamed of getting. It was so simple but so sleek. I yanked my gaze away from the brilliant diamonds and looked at him again.
“You like it.”
“I never said that.”
He pulled the ring out of the box then grabbed my left hand. “You don’t need to.” In something akin to a romantic gesture, he slipped the ring onto my finger. Except it wasn’t romantic at all, just a formality. He kept his eyes glued to mine as he released my hand.
It was a perfect fit. Just to be stubborn, I didn’t raise my hand to admire it, even though I would the second he was gone.
He slipped the box back into his pocket. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Your father and I have business to discuss.”
“I’ll let you know how he’s feeling. He’s getting worse by the day.”
“Then we can’t put this off.”
“Thanks for being so sensitive about it…”
He stepped closer to me and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry your father is dying. But my mother is already dead. Don’t expect me to cry a river for you.”
“At least you still have a parent…” This man was evil—right down to the bone.
His eyes shifted back and forth slightly as he looked into mine. He could command soldiers with that look, lead countries with that stare. He was strong and ominous, every bit as unnerving as my father described. If there had to be someone looking out for me, it seemed like there was no one better. “The grass is always greener on the other side…”
9
Maverick
Father reached the door first. “He better not die today, not before he gives me what I want.” He pounded his fist against the door, slamming his knuckles into the wood like he was there to capture the fortress rather than just pay a visit.
If Arwen thought I had no compassion, wait until she met my father. “We’ll get what we want. But let’s be delicate. The man only has weeks, if not days, to live.” I didn’t have much pity for Martin—but I did pity his daughter.
My father turned on me like I’d insulted him. “Was anyone delicate when your mother died?”
God, I knew he’d say that.
When his cheeks started to puff, I knew he was losing his temper. “Was anyone sensitive to my wife being raped—”
“We’re here and he’s alive. So let’s just get what we came for. No need to make a scene.”
“What did I say about interrupting me?” He grabbed me by the neck and started to choke me.
I threw my arm down and pushed him off. “Enough.”
“If I had my gun, I’d shoot you.”