Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
She’s so mouthy these days. I’m sure she means well, and I appreciate her honesty, but Charlotte is leaving a mark on her.
I look at the clock and realize it’s already nine p.m. Nick told me Charlotte refused her dinner even though I would’ve liked her to dine downstairs with me. She’s probably still shaken up from the ordeal. And now she’s all alone in her room …
“I’m going to see her,” I say, walking off before Jill can refute my words.
As my hand hovers over her bedroom door handle, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can hear her sniffling from the other side. She’s crying.
Without hesitation, I open the door. It’s already dark outside, and her room doesn’t seem light. She’s in her bed with the covers pulled up to her nose. But her eyes are closed.
I approach her and look. She’s asleep … crying. With no one here to console her.
Does she know she’s crying?
Would she mind if I came to comfort her?
I crawl into bed with her and wrap my arm around her, burying my head in the nook of her neck. She’s soft and smells of roses and fresh drops of rain, and it reminds me of my younger years, of a time when neither of us was stained by the pain of our past. A time when maybe, just maybe, we could’ve had more than a loveless marriage.
Chapter 19
Charlotte
In the middle of the night, I wake up to something wrapped around my waist. My eyes are sticky from crying, and I can barely open them. I’m groggy as hell. Still, I manage to turn my head … and find Easton right next to me in my bed.
For a second, I’m frozen in place. My heart beats in my throat. He’s sound asleep and snoring just a bit with his hand tucked neatly underneath my belly. I’m breathless and so damn tired still … I just want to sleep, and if I speak, that means he’ll wake up.
Do I really want to, knowing he’s here hugging me instead of punishing me for trying to run?
His body feels warm and cozy against mine, and I can’t help but cuddle closer into his embrace as counterintuitive as it seems. Right now, I could use the company in whatever way I can get it. Even if he is my enemy, my captor … he’s also my husband, and nothing will ever change that.
And with that thought in mind, I fall back asleep into a dreamless sleep once again.
The sun breaking through the curtains wakes me up. A yawn escapes my mouth as I crack open my eyes, but it’s short-lived. There’s no arm around me, and nobody lying beside me. Easton’s gone as if he was never here in the first place.
But I couldn’t have imagined it because I clearly remember him being here. Why did he leave? Did he not intend to stay after all and got angry with himself when he found out he’d fallen asleep right beside me? Or am I overthinking this?
Suddenly, I notice a note on my nightstand. I pick it up and read.
I’ve placed a new bathrobe and a pair of slippers in your closet, along with some new dresses and other clothes. Breakfast is ready for you downstairs. – Jill
A smile forms on my lips. I can’t stay mad at her forever if she’s going to keep showering me with gifts all the time. No wonder Easton enjoys having her around so much.
I get out of bed and put on the new clothes Jill bought for me. After checking myself out in the mirror, I still see that same girl being held captive as a prize, and my smile dissipates. No matter how many times I try to look in the mirror, I see the same gloomy expression every day. No fake smile will erase what’s underneath.
I sigh and do my makeup before going downstairs. The scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and pancakes meets me halfway, and my mouth waters. Some of my favorite meals. Enticed, I go straight into the dining room. Easton’s probably there waiting for me.
He’s in his chair, but he’s not reading the paper or drinking a cup of coffee; his eyes are honed in on me. Normally, he points at a chair or narrows his eyes at me while waiting for me to sit down. This time, he scoots his chair back and approaches me.
I stay frozen in place as he pecks me on the cheeks, and says, “Good morning, Charlotte.”
“Morning,” I say with an awkward voice.
I don’t know how to respond. He’s never been that kind to me. He’s usually a grumpy bastard in the morning before he’s had his first coffee. Is this some sort of trap? Is he only doing this so he can get something else out of me? I should stay wary of him. Even with all the pleasantries, I can’t ever forget who he is.