Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
It had been dark, late when we’d left my apartment, but now the sun was starting to rise, the sky being painted a pink hue, maybe promising a new beginning. But who was I kidding? I didn’t have a new start anywhere. I had a future that would be laid out, set forth, planned, expected.
Cameron would control everything, and as much as I should loathe that and instinctively want to fight it, a part of me welcomed it. A side of me that didn’t want to think or deal with anything, not even myself, would embrace the control I’d given him.
The car started to slow, and I turned and glanced out Cameron’s window. I could see him watching me out of the corner of my eye, but I wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t give him that power yet. When the vehicle came to a complete stop, I stared at the massive home in front of us. I still felt Cameron watching me, maybe appraising what I thought or how I felt. Right now I was just numb.
“Welcome home for the next two weeks.”
I did look at him then, his voice deep, making me feel like I was on a wire, these flames barely licking at me from below.
The back door was opened, and a rush of wind blew in, shifting my hair over my shoulders, having the smell of blood rising up, this metallic scent that made me sick and think about what we’d left behind. Cameron got out of the car first, but I sat there, not sure what to say, how to actually move.
I was frozen in place, my mind a whirlwind, my thoughts jumbled together. Cameron leaned forward, bracing his hand on the frame of the door, his focus trained right on me.
“The sooner you come inside, the sooner you’ll be acclimated to the situation.”
His voice was smooth, maybe even coaxing. I wasn’t a fool to think he would be gentle, that he’d give me time. I wasn’t stupid enough to think he cared about my feelings whatsoever.
Of course I had no choice. I’d agreed to be his if he saved me. He’d held up his end of the deal, and now I needed to as well. In the end I reached out, slipped my hand into his, and allowed him to help me out of the SUV. I’d follow through with my end. But what frightened me most of all was the fact that fear wasn’t the only thing I felt.
Arousal burned in the deepest depths of me as well.
I didn’t have much time to take in the house once outside the vehicle. It was big, with giant white pillars in front, the lighting pointing to the double front doors, and the windows grand with this filigree design covering the glass. It was an elaborate, extraordinary prison, one meant to keep others out, maybe even keep some in. I noticed several men stationed close to the house, and knew there were probably more hidden in the shadows. I didn’t know much about Cameron, nothing really, but I had a feeling I’d learn a lot about him in my time here.
We entered the house, and a man in a dark suit greeted Cameron. They spoke low, too low for me to hear what was being said, but I was too focused on my surroundings anyway. Dark granite, hardwood, and a crystal chandelier made up the foyer.
There was a staircase in front of us, one of those like I’d seen in Gone with the Wind, which started on both sides, curved upward, and branched off in opposite directions. I’d never been around so many lavish things, such taste and expanse.
I turned in a half circle, gasping slightly when I realized Damien stood right behind me. His dark eyes and aloofness set me on edge. This man was dangerous; that was clear. He might not show emotions, might not even experience them, but what he had was loyalty to Cameron.
It was that loyalty that made a man violent, willing to do anything and everything to ensure the situation went exactly how it was supposed to. That went a long way in ensuring I was kept in line, even if I had no plans on making things difficult. After two weeks I’d move on, live my life—or try to at least.
Damien stayed silent, his composure, his ramrod stance, bringing this frigid chill to my body. The tattoos I could see that crept up his neck made him seem even more imposing, even more menacing. No wonder Cameron kept him close. This man screamed danger.
“This way,” Cameron said deeply, softly. I tore my gaze from Damien and followed Cameron up the stairs, the carpet beneath the hardwood making my footsteps light, silent. This home seemed to go on forever, and I found myself noticing the lack of warmth here. No, this wasn’t a home. This was a place where Cameron stayed.