Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
What the fuck?
Nausea clings to my stomach muscles, and sweat slides down my back. Dad’s words that I took as a warning were really a threat. “This isn’t over. We’ll see each other very soon, and we can discuss this face-to-face.”
I’m going to be sick.
Dad slips his sunglasses down his nose. The glimmer in his eye is distressing. “See, Tom? I told you we’d find her.”
God, please help me.
My stomach lurches like I might actually vomit all over them.
Troy’s SUV bolts up the driveway, rocks and dust flying behind it. I’ve never been happier to see him. Because while I don’t want to think this isn’t going to go super sideways and get physical, who knows anymore? I didn’t dream either would show up at Luke’s, let alone together.
Nothing is off the table.
Dad reeks of desperation and oozes fury. Tom is just happy to watch me suffer—hence the camera. I’m sure that was his idea. He’s planning on watching this on repeat. He loves nothing more than seeing himself as the show’s star … especially when he gets to dominate others in the process.
Tom stands tall, all six feet, four inches towering over me in a sad display of superiority.
I almost feel sorry for him.
Troy slides his car next to the garage and is out the door before it fully stops. He marches across the driveway in his suit. He’s pissed.
“Troy,” I cry, so thankful that he hadn’t actually left me.
“Easy now, Troy,” Dad says, turning his charm on my security guard. The condescension in his voice is utterly embarrassing. Has he always spoken to my team like this? “How have you been, son? I haven’t seen you for a while.”
“I’m not your son. This is private property. You need to go. Now.”
Tom makes a face like he’s looking at a puppy nipping at his pant leg. “Why don’t you get back in your car?” His features morph into steel, and the real Tom comes out. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Troy doesn’t flinch. He might even look amused.
“Stop filming me,” I say, perturbed by the camera trained on my features.
“Listen, doll,” Tom says, patronizing me. “You obviously need therapy after this ugly little tantrum you’ve thrown over the past two weeks. And I have access to the best therapists in the world. I’m willing to look past your attention-wanting behavior and pay out the nose to repair our reputations.” He leans forward, a sick snicker on his face. “I’ll still marry you if you promise to get the help you so desperately need.”
“What I desperately need is for you two pricks to get out of here and forget I exist,” I say, looking him dead in the eye.
“I’m only going to say this once,” Troy says, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Get off the porch, or I’ll move you. One option is much easier and cleaner, but it’s really up to you.”
Tom rolls his eyes and looks at Troy like he’s bored. “Or what? You’re not going to do jack shit. Now stand over there and shut the fuck up.”
Troy steps toward him with a look on his face that I’ve only seen once before. It ended with a lot of blood—not Troy’s. And while it would give me a thrill to see Tom put in his place, especially since he dared to come to Luke’s and talk to me this way, I also know the PR machine behind my ex, and I don’t want that spinning against me even more.
“Troy, don’t,” I say just as another vehicle comes down the driveway.
It’s Luke’s truck, and it’s picking up speed. Oh no.
My heart races, and I grab the door for support. I have no idea what’s about to happen, and the thought of how many ways this could go wrong terrifies me.
“Ah, is that the Marshall boy?” Dad asks, his head turning back to me slowly. “I see.”
“Who is the Marshall boy?” Tom asks.
“A little punk that Laina used to date until I got rid of him. I did you a favor, little girl.”
No, you didn’t. I step onto the porch, squaring my shoulders to my father.
“That little punk is the best man I know,” I say. “He’s kind and good and honest. He treats people well and me even better. The two of you could take notes if you didn’t have your heads so far up your fucking asses.”
Tom sighs. “Two weeks and you have such a filthy mouth.”
“You should hear the things I say to Luke,” I say, smirking.
The fury on Tom’s face is worth every problem my filthy mouth will cause me.
Dad wraps his hand around my arm, making me yelp.
Troy suddenly grabs my father by the back of his shirt with such force that my father loses his footing. He stumbles down the stairs backward, swiping wildly for the railing. The only reason he doesn’t fall on his ass is because Troy has a hold of him.