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)
My relief fizzled. First, Callen must not be monitoring my messages if she felt free enough to send such an incriminating communication. Second, everyone loved me. Or they used to. What had she done to jeopardize my job?
As the car motored forward, I typed:
You changed everything but yourself. Of course you have only turned my life into yours. WHAT ELSE DID YOU THINK WOULD HAPPEN?
Every time I turned down one of my mother chosen dates, she reminded me I couldn’t have change without changing. A truth I saw so clearly now.
The reply bounced back, and I ground my teeth harder. Isobel had blocked me again.
Something had to be done before she destroyed my life beyond repair. Motions jerky, I stuffed the phone in my purse and twisted to face Callen. Yikes! He was glaring at me, smoldering beneath a thousand layers of anger.
“What’d I do this time?” I demanded.
“Hiding your activities from me isn’t a good move,” he stated. “I imagine, and I react.”
Diving out of a speeding car? Not such a bad idea. Unless I had the power to calm him, as asserted? What I wouldn’t do? Show him those texts. Nope. Talk about borrowing more trouble.
“Well, your imagination and reaction are on you, not me.” Though hesitant, I reached out with a trembling hand and patted his stubble-dusted cheek. “There, there.” Prickly stubble tickled my skin, but oh, the warmth he radiated. My patting morphed to caressing.
He blinked, blanked his expression, and reclined. “There, there?”
“Yes, yes,” I quipped. So I’d done it? I’d succeeded in my endeavor? I lowered my arm as he stretched out both of his, getting more comfortable.
“You’re doing this to annoy me,” he said, his tone even, “and I’m unsure why.”
Sigh. “I’m simply being myself, that’s all.” Trees whizzed past the window.
Callen’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a lie. But then, everything you do is a lie.” He drummed his fingertips over the top of the seat. “From now on, when you pretend to be someone else, or make an outrageous claim, you’ll suffer the consequences. If you fake a desire for something I know you despise, I’ll ensure you get it.”
Hold up. “Is that what’s happening now? You’re ensuring I get what I’ve professed to want?”
“I am. I’m taking you shopping. For yoga pants.”
Truly? This was my punishment for twice invading his private space? Um, sign me up for more! “In that case, I’m an unhappy wife trapped in a loveless marriage, and I request a divorce. Actually, I insist upon it. According to the rules you instituted, you gotta give it to me.”
“No, Isobel,” he said with a cold smile. “According to the rules, I only give you what I’m certain you donna want.”
Dang him. He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t wish to stay married to him, therefore he got to keep me.
Whoa. That phrasing. ‘Keep me.’ I should hate it. Yes, I absolutely should. “You do realize you are actively participating in your own misery, yes?”
“How so?” he asked, still using that even tone. But he’d begun twisting his signet ring, a sign in my favor.
Taking heart, I decided to probe a little deeper and push for an outright admission. “If you learn to calm yourself, you won’t need to keep a detested spouse around. What’d you do before me, anyway?”
His eyes didn’t just narrow again; they slitted. But not before sparks of crimson flickered inside his irises. My lungs withered. Those sparks. Like flecks of fire. I could only gape. Proof of his immortality and maybe the most frightening thing I’d ever witnessed.
“I lost control of my temper in your presence once,” he stated. “The day Roderick died.”
What had happened when he’d lost control of his temper? Had he hurt Isobel? Was that why she’d run, willing to steal an innocent woman’s future? A barbed lump grew in my throat. This male might have doctored me yesterday, but he was still dangerous.
“Let’s talk this out,” I suggested, even more desperate for answers. “Bare our dirty laundry. Get it all out in the open.”
The car eased to a halt in front of a lone brick building, and the driver emerged, rushing around to open Callen’s door. My husband stared at me, quiet, searching, before climbing out and extending his scarred hand to me. I noted every detail. Strong and bronzed, with callouses on the pads of his fingers and a fine dusting of dark hair on his knuckles. Also the hand that should bear a wedding ring but didn’t.
Gathering my courage, I accepted, allowing him to assist me out. The rough ridges of the scar teased my palm, and my heartbeat turned erratic.
The moment I stood straight, I released him. Distance. That was what I needed. But he must have sensed my intention because he slung an arm around my waist, holding me close.
Isobel would hate this. Me? Not so much. Before I could work up a good protest, he led me across a sidewalk and toward a doorman, who opened a glass entrance for us.