Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I know this because I live in the abyss.
What kind of monsters are you hiding, Ford Mann?
“Kind of early in this relationship for me to believe your words at face value,” I say, taking another step away from him. His hand falls and his smile transform into a smirk.
“Relationship?”
“Don’t be a tool. Friendship. We’re friends. I guess.”
A deep, rumbling laugh erupts from him. “You guess? Do you make it difficult for everyone to get to know you?”
Yes.
I don’t have time for people or distractions.
His softness is different than before at school. Unexpected but not hated. It’s warm and inviting. I have this overwhelming desire to step closer so he’ll wrap me in a hug like a human-shaped blanket.
Ugh. He didn’t suddenly turn sweet on me and he’s not some potential boyfriend. He’s still the grade-A douchebag I met at school.
Ford Mann has layers and he’s dangerous to someone like me, because he has this crazy way of disarming me with his charming smiles and unpredictable words.
“I have homework. I’m leaving now,” I state in the iciest tone I can muster despite the heat flooding through me. “Be good, or else.”
With those words, I turn on my heel and escape the room before I divulge more inner parts of myself that don’t need exposing.
There’s just something about him that makes me want to tell him everything. He draws me to him. Even his secrets call to me.
I want to know him.
And that scares the hell out of me.
* * *
It’s almost been an hour and Della hasn’t scared Ford off yet, so they must have connected in some way. Every now and again, I hear his low voice speaking to her, but it never raises or seems agitated. I’m perched in an armchair with a book in the living room under the guise of reading, but really I’m just keeping an eye—or an ear in this case—on things. As much as I want to trust Ford, I don’t.
I can’t.
The clacking of Sandra’s heels on the wood floors draws my attention. All the hairs on my arms stand at attention. I pretend to be engrossed in my book, making an obvious show of turning the page, even after the sound of her heels stop. If she knows I’m micromanaging the new tutor, she’ll tell Dad. If she tells Dad, he’ll dig in and want to know more about this tutor. It’ll put a microscope on Della and I can’t have that.
Plus, if Dad realizes the tutor is incredibly hot, he might fire him on the spot.
No, it’s better to feign disinterest.
“Miss Landry?”
“Hmm?” I don’t look up from my book.
“Your father wanted me to let you know that tomorrow night you’ll be entertaining a guest at dinner.”
My eyes fly to hers, brows knitting in confusion. “Me?”
“Yes. He said he’ll have Lucy bring by some appropriate dress options.”
Good ol’ Lucy. My personal shopper. Because heaven forbid I’m allowed to actually shop on my own. That would require letting me off the leash and Dad has a strong hold on it. If he’d let me loose, even for one day, to shop, I could probably buy and return enough stuff to stash away a good amount of cash for an escape.
But since that isn’t an option, I’m still penniless and without a plan.
“Who’s the guest?” A prickly uneasy feeling spreads across my flesh. “Do I know them?”
Sandra flashes me a brilliant, practiced smile. “It’s his new protégé, dear. Ty Constantine.”
Constantine.
As in the influential and seriously wealthy gods of New York City.
“Wait. Dad’s protégé is also the guy he wants me to have dinner with?” I clarify, irritation churning my gut.
“You know how your father likes to control all the moving parts and ensure the end result is to his satisfaction.” She waves a manicured hand in dismissal. “It’ll be better this way. Allowing anyone access into the Croft empire is risky and dangerous. You know this.”
I want to pick her apart for more answers regarding this topic, but all thoughts come screeching to a halt when Ford enters the living room with a cat in his arms and my little sister at his side.
I gape at him.
A cat?
He gives me a half shrug, not at all bothered by the way the filthy feline is clawing long snags in his shirt. Dad would have a cow for so many reasons right now—cute boy, mangy cat, and my deaf sister. The idea of Dad walking in on this gives me such anxiety, the room tilts and bile rises in my throat.
I’m vaguely aware of Sandra shooing Della to her room and telling Ford goodbye before she disappears back to her office within our home.
Then, silence.
I snap out of my daze and rise to my feet. After sliding on my shoes, I slip out of the penthouse, hoping to catch up to Ford.