Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“I can’t bear to look at you right now.”
He’d muttered the words so softly when he’d walked into the bathroom where I’d been puking. Rather than provide comfort like he’d done endless times before whenever I was sick, he stared at me with cold disgust before walking out on me. I’d felt the dismissal like a blade to the throat.
He was done with me.
He didn’t even have to say the words. I felt them. I hadn’t just disappointed him; I’d betrayed him in the worst possible way. It was unforgivable.
I somehow manage to make it through baggage claim and out of the building where a few cars are lined up waiting on arrivals. At the front of the line, a black SUV waits, hot exhaust fumes clouding the air behind it. The shiver that works down my spine is less to do with the cool weather and the fact I’m willingly going to Colin.
My real father.
Terror claws at me, but I push it down as I force one step at a time toward the waiting vehicle. Early this morning, after the blowup and the words Dad spoke after, I knew what to do. I needed to leave. With a heavy heart filled with regret, I called Colin.
I’m not sure what I expected, but his concern and take-charge attitude weren’t it. Before I knew it, he had a plane booked and a driver waiting to take me to the airport. I was too much of a pussy to say goodbye to Canyon. I knew if I saw him again, I’d be unable to leave. Luckily, he was in his room with the door shut, so I packed my bags, left a note, and escaped without confrontation.
Now that I’m finally here, though, I’m sick with apprehension.
I don’t want to be here.
But Dad doesn’t want me with him. This is my only option.
When I reach the SUV, a man dressed all in black, probably twenty-five or so, steps out. His features are rugged and handsome, but he has a cold glint in his green eyes that makes me nervous.
“Greer.” He nods at me. “You must be the boss man’s kid.”
I bristle at the reminder but manage a mutter of acknowledgment. “Is Colin not here?”
“Get in,” Greer says, ignoring my question as he grabs for my luggage. “I missed getting my dick sucked for this. Unless you plan on doing me the favor, let’s get back so I can resume my previous activities before I was summoned to play chauffeur.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I know he’s just being crass to get a rise out of me. He seems the type. It’s just a reminder of the world I’ve stepped into—one I’m wholly unprepared for. Hurrying around the vehicle, I hop in the front seat, expecting to see a car full of goons. Just one goon, and he’s tossing my luggage into the back like it personally wronged him. I yank on my seat belt and clasp my fingers together to calm my nerves.
Greer climbs into the vehicle and slams the door shut. He fumbles at the radio until he finds a hard rock song. The bass blares through the speakers, making my ears practically bleed. I inwardly cringe, slightly turning away from him so I can stare at the city passing by. It’s a blur of lights, and I doze off a couple of times until he pulls the SUV into a driveway.
The home is just outside of downtown St. Louis in an older but renovated neighborhood. A neat, immaculate yard can be seen in the moonlight, and an iron gate surrounds the property. The house itself appears to be three-story. Greer shuts off the engine, parking behind another black SUV. It makes me think about my white Range Rover and how it would stand out amongst their vehicles.
A painful punch of sadness knocks the breath out of me. Not because I’ll miss my car, but because I’ll miss them. My dad and Canyon. Track and sculpting and violin. My life in Florida.
Greer helps me with my luggage and lets us into the dark house. My nerves are buzzing with worry as I catalog each and every sound. It’s quiet aside from our soft thudding footsteps. He guides me through the home and up two flights of stairs to the third floor. We pass an open doorway, and a man, scantily clad in a pair of glittery shorts that reveal everything, peeks his head out. Claw marks and bruises litter his chest and neck. Eyeliner is smeared over one eye, and his eyes are dilated. He drinks up my appearance with a hungry stare that makes me shudder.
“Yummy,” he says to Greer. “Did you bring me a present?”
“Boss’s son.”
The guy cringes and disappears back into the room. I follow Greer into the next room, which is decorated much like mine at home. Simple and nice. I’d expected my room back from my old trailer with Mom, not such a well-decorated space. Greer drops my bags by the dresser and gestures at the bed.