Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Still no sign of my bodyguards. No sign of Lady Thorn, either. Where were they all hiding? Because there was no way the beefy duo and royal canine weren’t watching my every move.
In the shaded cabana, a single dark blue slushie waited for me, beads of condensation dripping from the frosted glass. To my immense disappointment, the maid was long gone. How was I supposed to stealthily grill someone for answers if no one stuck around?
Whatever. I had things to mull. I eased onto a lounger, picked up my drink and sipped—oh wow! So good! Dang if I didn’t suddenly feel like I’d extended my vacation.
But I wasn’t on vacation, was I? Instead, I was fighting for my life. No telling what damage the monstrous Isobel was doing to my family.
A pang of homesickness tore through my chest. Okay, forget Callen and the things I’d found in his house. Here, now, I yearned to call my mother. Should I? Shouldn’t I?
Darlene Darcy would never believe a strange woman claiming to be her daughter, especially while said daughter could visit her at any time. And yet…
If I provided sufficient proof, maybe there was a slight chance she’d take me seriously.
But what if she blocked Isobel’s number? What then? I’d have no avenue to reach my mother. And what if Mama did believe me? Would she and my stepfather empty their savings to fly to Scotland and challenge Callen, a supposed berserker? I hadn’t forgotten his supposed reaction to his brother’s challenge.
Ugh. Again, whichever road I traveled came with enormous hazards. Maybe I should wait to phone her. Let her spend a couple days with Isobel and begin to realize how drastically her daughter had changed. Then she’d be more inclined to listen to a ridiculous story about waking up in the wrong body.
The same maid appeared beside my lounger. “Another smoothie, Mrs. Bruce?”
I was kinda sure I detected a note of resentment in her voice. No matter. “I’d love one, but only if you’ll join me. I’ll be nice, I promise. The nicest!”
She hesitated, staying put, and I mentally high-fived myself. Sweet progress!
“Believe it or not,” I said, pressing on, “I’ve become a totally different person since the wedding.”
“I’m sure you have,” she mumbled before shooting off like a bullet.
Minutes passed, but she never returned. Guess I’d pressed too hard.
I heaved another sigh, my shoulders slumping. The reality of my situation coiled around me, an invisible boa strangling me with each new deliberation. The maids with their fear and avoidance–tighten. The two shadows monitoring my every move inside the house–tighten. The fur beast–tighten. Callen’s refusal to see me, or even speak to me, despite my obvious differences from Isobel–tighten, tighten, tighten.
Utterly alone with zero other options, I could only wait and hope for an opportunity to learn more. The delay intensified my frustration. I taught children with special needs to face and overcome their obstacles, yet I must sit back and simply watch as my life imploded bit by bit.
I stood and stalked to the pool. Blanking my mind, I descended the steps to enter the warm, crystal-clear liquid. Fully immersed, I kicked off, expecting to get lost. Logging in a few dozen laps might get my blood pumping and my mind settled. Except, as I got into the groove, gliding from one side to the other, my thoughts whirled faster.
Perhaps if I was less of a burden to the housekeepers, acted extra friendly, helpful even, I could possibly develop a much needed friendship with a confidant.
As for Buzz and Ponytail, I must earn their trust. Appear to welcome their presence, and over time turn them from bodyguards to allies. Then, when the time was right, I could make my escape.
The biggest challenge was, of course, my husband. I had no control over Callen and his intensity. But maybe, with calm and logic, I could convince him to divorce me. Or rather, Isobel. Then she might willingly come home and perform another switch. With the stroke of a pen, both husband, wife, and the unwitting third party could be free of this travesty of a union. And it wasn’t like she wanted to live the life of a teacher in Oklahoma. It was worth a shot, anyway. Besides, proving we should divorce and winning him over relied on the same strategy: being myself. I knew how to rock a friend zone.
There was no need to be cruel. My aim wasn’t to hurt the cold but possibly immortal Callen. I only wished to highlight our incompatibility and/or earn his friendship. Laudable goals.
So. Gold stamp this scheme. If it worked in either capacity, we’d all enjoy a happy ending. Even the redhead who didn’t deserve it. A fact I couldn’t bemoan. By the grace of God, I hadn’t gotten everything I had deserved throughout the different chapters of my life. And I didn’t know what had brought Isobel to this point in her life. Why not show her a little compassion?