Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
He’s harsh and uncaring, and I don’t see him switching gears anytime soon either. He’s had three days to cool off, and if the way he’s acting today is any indication of him relenting from the cruel treatment I’m receiving, it will be a cold day in Hell before he changes his mind.
“Tears aren’t going to save you, sweetheart, not anymore,” he says detestably. “You can shed those on your own time, not on mine.” His words bite, and in order to avert my emotional pain to physical, I sink my teeth into my lower lip hard. It doesn’t matter what I say or how I try to say it; the new protocol he’s putting in place for me is ringing loud and clear.
“From now on, you are not to speak unless you’re asked to respond. Your eyes will remain on the floor at all times from this moment forward.”
You know when you were a kid and your parent said not to touch the hot stove burner, but you just had to find out for yourself? Yeah, well, that was me. As soon as Travis said eyes down, my eyes trailed in the opposite direction.
“Eyes down!” His eyes flared as he barks out viciously. I force my gaze to the ground, clasping my hands together on my lap, twisting them in a knot, and desperately trying to keep them from visibly shaking. Surely, he can’t still be this hot under the collar from what happened at the birthday luncheon? What did I do? Oh, shit, maybe they found out about me cheating the biosensor toilet. My eyes go wide with worry, and my heart pounds in my chest at the thought of being busted. I remain quiet, though; I’m not stupid. I’m not going to spill the beans unless I’m called out on it.
“This shit can’t get any more real than it already is, little one. You belong to Nick. Nick owns you. The fun and games are over. You’ve had enough time to adjust.” My heart thrums loudly in my chest at his words. Then I feel his hand sweep over the top of my head, and I shiver. I want that touch to mean something different, but I know he’s petting me like he’s the owner of a dog. My stomach lurches, and I’m about to vomit on his shoes.
“Time to get with the program and stop throwing your tantrums, Princess. Time to suck it up and deal.”
“Yes, sir,” I say numbly. One day, I want to see how he deals when my father turns the tables on his sorry ass. Why do I do this to myself every single time? I always give people the benefit of the doubt and assume the best in them, even Travis. It’s clear as day to me now; I’ve refused to accept things for the way they really are. I’ve allowed myself to be unrealistic, impractical, and delusional, just to avoid reality.
“I’ll be gone for a couple of days.” His icy words descend from above my head and my blood turns to ice, coming to a screeching halt in my veins. “You need to be on your best behavior. Do you understand that?” No! I don’t want that. I won’t have anyone to run interference between Nick and me. My eyes blink rapidly forcing back the impending release of tears as I chastise myself for feeling so weak. I’m not sure which one of them is worse of two evils at this point anyway. Flip a coin, Jules.
“Yes, sir.” Then stupidly, forgetting my place, I lift my chin, look into his eyes through my glistening ones, and ask, “When do you leave?” I try hiding the worry beginning to creep over my features and voice. I don’t know what this means. I search his face, but he’s giving nothing away. I feel a million miles away from him at the moment, and despite his hard looks and terrifying actions, I know sweet Travis has to be in there somewhere. I miss him. I miss his protectiveness and everything we’ve shared over the past two weeks. I want the simple things back and perhaps just to hear him say he’s still got me. What I would give to hear him say those words right about now, but he does none of that.
He shakes his head at me and barks, “That’s none of your concern; you’re a slave. How’s that for a different perspective?” He cocks his head to the side. “Nick owns you. You need to remember your place, and you don’t get to ask the questions. You answer only when you’re told to speak.” I gasp loudly, my hand covering my mouth as I stare back up at him in shock. Slave? Oh. My. God. I’ve just been hit by a lethal stun gun, and it has stopped my heart from beating. I’m so bowled over by his words that I’m glad I’m on my knees, because I would have fallen if I was standing.