Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I ignore Sadie and retrieve my luggage so I can pack enough to get me through a week. “Obviously, I can’t take everything tonight,” I mutter to her. “I’ll come back as soon as I have my own place to get the rest.”
Which is hopefully in the next couple of days.
“Fine.” The word sounds bitingly cold.
I use my left hand to push the luggage out of the bedroom, and Sadie breathes down my neck all the way to the front door.
My emotions are all over the place, and it’s not until I’m standing in the lobby that the realization of what just happened shudders through me.
“One day, you’ll come to your senses and crawl back with your tail between your legs, and it will be too late,” Sadie says to me, a vindictive cruelty in her eyes.
I lift my chin and give her a scathing glare. “I’d rather starve on the cold streets of New York before that happens.”
She looks me up and down with disdain before heading back up to the apartment.
Once she’s gone, I let out an emotional sigh, and giving Bobby, the doorman, an apologetic look, I ask, “Can you please call a cab for me?”
His eyes rest on me with compassion, making me want to cry. “Of course, Miss Harrison.”
I take a seat in an armchair and glance down at my aching right hand. There’s already swelling around my wrist.
Shit.
“Your ride will be here soon, Miss Harrison,” Bobby says.
“Thank you.”
Callan.
My worry for him, along with my anger, disappointment, and hurt toward my family keep hitting me in relentless waves.
I can’t process everything that’s happened.
Picking up my handbag, I begin to search for my cell phone before I remember my father took it.
Shit!
Intense panic flares through me because there’s no way for me to call or message Callan.
God.
When the cab pulls up in front of the entrance, I rush out of the building and quickly climb into the vehicle. “To The Ritz, please.”
We drive the short distance, and the driver helps take my luggage from the car. I pay him the fee and, hurrying inside, I head straight for reception.
“Evening, ma’am. How can I help?”
“Can you call Callan Wright’s apartment, please? Tell him Lily is here to see him.”
I wait a minute or so before the lady at reception says, “Mr. Wright doesn’t seem to be at home. Can I take a message?”
Worried about Callan, my teeth tug at my bottom lip.
“Can I have a room for the night?” I ask.
“Let me see what we have available.”
It takes a while before I’m handed a keycard for their cheapest room, that’s still so expensive it leaves a small dent in my finances.
“When Mr. Wright returns, can you tell him what room I’m staying in?”
“Yes.” She gives me a professional smile. “Is there anything else?”
“Can you please have ice sent up to my room?”
“Of course. I hope you enjoy your stay, Miss Harrison.”
“Thank you.” With a heavy heart, I take the elevator to the assigned floor, and when I step into the room, I push my luggage to the side and slump down in an armchair.
I stare at the cream bedspread, so upset and lost I can’t even cry.
Chapter 32
Callan
When I wake up, I let out a groggy groan.
“Dad, Callan’s awake,” Ellie calls out before she leans over me with a concerned look. “Hey.”
I let out another groan as I blink through the fog in my mind. “Hey,” I mutter.
Coming into the living room, Dad asks, “How do you feel?”
“I have one hell of a headache…” I sit up on the couch and rub my fingers against my aching temples. “ I feel completely out of it. Christ.” I take a moment to try and catch my bearings.
“Ellie, get your brother some coffee,” Dad says. He watches me for a moment before asking, “You haven’t had such a bad panic attack in a long while. What happened?”
I glance at my father and see him sitting on his recliner.
“I saw Jackson at a party and completely lost my shit.”
“Christ, son,” Dad gets up to come sit next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to run into that fucker.”
Not once in the past six years have I come face-to-face with Judge Harrison or Theo Jackson – until last night.
All it took was one look at the fucker, who decided Theo Jackson was a bright and upstanding young man that didn’t deserve to have his life destroyed, to send me spiraling.
Just one look at that murderer's smug fucking face.
Jesus, I shouted at Lily.
I just left her there.
Christ. What have I done?
The thoughts flash through my mind, and my breathing begins to speed up again.
The threatening panic attack has Dad gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Focus on my face, son. Take deep breaths.”