Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 89228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
A few silent seconds passed as she trembled in a gridlock of clenched muscles and stifled breaths. She should've heard a crash if someone had broken in. She gripped the doorframe to her room, her legs shaking to run, her brain telling her not to make a sound.
The stillness of the house gathered around her, squeezing her chest and slowly, maddeningly, dispersing with her exhale. Was she paranoid now? Fabricating new horrors in her head?
Then she heard it. The soft rasp of socked feet on hardwood, approaching, gaining speed. Time seemed to slam to a halt as her body moved to escape and her eyes swung over her shoulder.
A man stood in the mouth of the hall, with broad shoulders, a baseball cap, a scar on his cheek, and a gun in his hand.
Why was Van in her house, pointing a gun? The shock of it rendered her speechless.
“You won't run.” His voice was soft and casual, exactly the way she remembered it. But his outstretched arm aimed the gun at her head, a gloved finger beside the trigger. A tablet dangled in his other gloved hand, and her phone was wedged beneath the buckle of his jeans.
She stood half-in, half-out of the bedroom, her blood pressure rising with every second that passed. Ten feet separated them. How good was his aim? If she ducked into the room, she could escape through the window. Outside. OhGodohGodohGod. She couldn't swallow, couldn't breathe.
“I'll shoot through your door before you make it to the window.” His lips slid into a terrifying smile. “And we both know you'll have a panic attack the moment you lift the shade.”
Hard to argue, but the fact that he knew what crippled her surged anger through her veins, heating her skin and garbling her words. “What do you want?”
“We'll get to that. Stand in the center of the hall with your arms at your sides.”
The audacious command made her skin crawl. Worse, she hadn't finished dressing because she didn't want to wrinkle her dress for Zach. The only clothing she wore were white lacy panties and a midriff cami. “Let me grab a robe.” And something sharp to stab him with.
“I won't repeat myself.” The eerie calm in his voice crept through the narrow space, stealing the strength from her knees. Not a hint of humor surfaced in the rigid lines of his face. He wasn't fucking around.
Maybe he wouldn't shoot her, but he knew about the agoraphobia. If she angered him, would he force her outside?
She shifted into the hall, fighting to keep her hands at her sides as the intensity of his gaze raked her legs, her panties, and lingered on her nipples pressing against the cotton.
He met her eyes. “You have three seconds to tell me how you greet Zachary Kaufman at the door.”
The blood drained from her cheeks, and a shiver raced over her spine. “What are you—?”
“Two seconds.”
“I don't—”
“One second.”
“I unlock the door and wait in the bedroom,” she said in a rushed breath. “Please, don't hurt him.” Even if she wasn't emotionally attached to Zach, she didn't want to see him harmed.
He prowled toward her with the gun leveled at her chest. Her pulse hammered in her ears, and her neck strained with tension, but she kept her chin up and eyes full of fuck you.
A foot away, he stopped and pressed the barrel of the gun against her breastbone, his eyes fixed on her breasts. The cold metal slid down the center of her chest, taking the thin cotton with it, until the neckline reached her nipples. He leaned in, his timbre low and authoritative. “Walk into your room and sit on the bed.”
Her body quivered against that voice, itching to obey. But the glow of his silver eyes rooted her to the floor, chilling her with the ferocity that hardened their depths.
She looked away, clenching her hands at her sides and popping the finger joints with her thumbs.
“Now!” he shouted.
She jumped, gasping for air and stumbling toward the room. He followed her in, and when she sat on the bed, he shoved the tablet under her nose.
She didn't look at it, couldn't drag her eyes from the man who towered over her. Thick, dark energy hummed around him, and he oozed malicious, predatory power from his pores. Not wild or manic, not throwing fists or flinging spit. It was calculating, in control, warning her.
With her arms wrapped around her chest and hips, she glared into his eyes, shivering against their sharp animalistic beauty. Maybe if she said his name, it would remind him he was human. “Van, are you going to make me go outside?”
The only thing that moved was his lips. “Look at the screen and swipe through the photos.”
Maybe he'd lied about his name. She glanced down, and her brow furrowed as she took in the image. It showed Zach in a parking lot with his hand beneath a brunette's skirt. She blinked rapidly, startled, confused, and shook her head. “How did you—”