Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Cecily pauses, fidgets, opens her mouth, then stops.
“What now?” I whisper.
“There was no accident, Ava,” she murmurs.
“Yeah,” Ari says. “You came back home late that night. I saw you the next morning, and you were fine.”
“No, I called the police, I—” My words get caught in my throat when a flash hits me out of nowhere.
Long, cruel fingers squeeze my face as flashing anger engulfs me whole. “You’ll keep your goddamn mouth shut, Ava, or so help me God, I’ll sew it shut for you.”
The door opens and I jolt as I meet those eyes. The same eyes that threatened me. No, they terrified me. I can still feel the harsh grip of his fingers around my jaw and the tremor that passed through me at the time.
Eli is my husband, but something tells me this marriage is more of an imprisonment. A way for him to control me. Sew my mouth shut, as he promised.
But about what?
“The doctor agreed to your discharge.” He steps inside in his tailored black trousers and crisp blue shirt, cuffs immaculate, hair pushed back, and presence stifling. The only thing out of place is the slight stubble covering his cheeks as if he hasn’t found the time to groom it.
“Get ready, would you?” he says. “I don’t have all day.”
“All day for what?” I ask with audible trepidation.
“To take you home, Mrs. King.”
5
ELI
My life is built around well-traced lines and impeccably connected patterns.
I’m a man of reason, strategy, and, most importantly, control—though the latter is often accompanied by the seductive taste of manic fixation.
Some might say I’m just…sociopathic. A perfect representation of plot holes and uncertain outcomes. A bit too black to be gray. Too gray to be black.
I’m nothing short of a conundrum for most people, which is exactly how I prefer it.
Dad taught me that people fear you when they can’t figure you out. They respect you, fawn over the merest hint of your attention, and grovel at the weight of your authority.
Which is why I’ve made it my mission to remain as clear of the public eye as possible. The eldest heir to two of the world’s largest empires is a mystery by all important accounts.
A handsome mystery.
A seductive-as-sin mystery.
Still a mystery, though.
They see my outer self and the persona I choose to adopt in public, but no one can tell what I’m planning until it’s too late.
Those details haven’t deterred their attention, though. Far from it.
Heads turn wherever I go. Men envy my charm, charisma, and ability to get things done. There hasn’t been anything I’ve wanted and haven’t acquired in this world.
Not a single thing.
Women drop to their knees if I so much as look in their direction.
All except for the one who’s glaring at me as if I pissed in her special edition bag and stepped on the hem of her precious veil. On our wedding day.
No kidding. Ava gave me the stink eye when I accidentally stepped on her veil.
“Don’t touch Elie with your sullied presence,” she told me while pushing me away.
I grabbed her by the elbow, fingers tightening incrementally. “Who the fuck is Elie?”
“The designer,” she replied as if I was supposed to know that.
Now, I’m treated with the same disregard after I’ve announced we’re going home. Something we should’ve done yesterday if her dear papa hadn’t insisted that she needed to be kept under surveillance one more night and convinced the doctor—that I pay—with that ludicrous demand.
Father and daughter share the stubbornness of a blind mule and the logical thinking of a drunk politician.
Dull pain throbs in my abdomen despite the illegal amount of painkillers I’ve consumed. I slide my hand into my pocket and roll my wedding band twice as I stare back at the headache in the form of a woman.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she announces, chin up, arms crossed, gearing up for a fight I don’t have the goddamn time for.
“You’re my wife and will go wherever I go, Mrs. King.”
She swallows, her pale throat working up and down with the motion until I can almost see the saliva traveling down through her transparent skin.
“Stop calling me that.”
“Calling you what?” I step into the hospital room, crowding her and the sidekicks she chose for the day. “Mrs. King?”
“Stop it,” she snaps.
“Get dressed and I might consider it.”
“Hey.” Ariella, a nutcase with serious stalking tendencies and a prison sentence waiting to happen, stands up and puffs out her chest, which is comical at best because she doesn’t even reach my shoulders. “Stop ordering people around like they’re servants and you’re their lord and savior.”
I lift a brow. “Is this still about your sister?”
“It’s about everything you do.”
“And you’re legal counsel now?”
“Only when it comes to going against you. Anyway, Ava should stay with Mama and Papa for a while until she gets used to her new reality. In case you forgot, she’s lost her memory and doesn’t remember marrying you.”