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)
Eli shoves himself off the door, and even though he no longer blocks my exit, his presence overwhelms my senses in a fraction of a second.
Imposing. Intimidating. Suffocating.
I can’t take my gaze off him, because I know it will take only one misstep and it’ll be game over for me.
One stupid move and I’ll strip away another chunk of my barely put-together soul.
“The real question is.” His smooth, deep voice touches my warm skin like a whip. “What have you done to owe me the displeasure, Ava?”
2
AVA
Along time ago, when I was younger and dumber, I used to look at this man like he was a god.
The only touchable god. One I could see up close and personal. One I could worship without fearing any form of reward and punishment system.
I had the dedication of a religious fanatic and a lunatic fundamentalist until the grandiosity shattered right before my eyes.
The god was never a god, after all. He’s more akin to a devil. Sinful, seductive, and destructive.
Now, I understand why people who leave their religion have the most contempt for it. I completely get why they sabotage, sully, and write hateful words in obscure online forums.
When you give an undeserving god your dedication and he ruins you through it, you’re bound to loathe him so that you don’t hate that stupid version of yourself who once worshipped him.
When I followed that god like a lovesick puppy and he looked at me once in a blue moon, I nearly gave myself a heart attack due to the excitement. I was lucky to have any form of recognition from a man who had girls falling at his feet, but I was the only one who got close.
Now, I see it for what it is. Indifference.
I meet Eli’s frosty gaze with my nonchalant one. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you just insinuate that I care about your opinion concerning anything I do?”
He steps closer silently, smoothly, almost creepily. I’m forced to tip my head back to stare at him.
I hate how tall he is, and I’m not short by any means.
It’s just that Eli was made to look down his straight nose at most people, and he does it so well, with a pinch of arrogance and an unhealthy dose of utter disregard.
He has a way of making others feel like they’re not worth a speck of dust beneath his shoe.
It’s the handsome face, I realize. He was born with superior genes, thanks to his parents and due to no contribution on his part. A face that makes people stop and stare at the ridiculously sharp jaw, perfectly proportional high cheekbones, and stunningly full lips.
But Eli’s most notable feature has always been those mysterious eyes.
People say eyes are the windows to the soul, but it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking, no matter how long you stare at them. They run deep—so deep that I was pulled into their midst once upon a time. I fought and floundered and yearned to be the only one who understood them.
Good thing I’m out of that haze now and couldn’t care less about whatever demonic plans he entertains.
He stops a few steps away, but it’s enough to flood my senses with his scent, something subtle and masculine and definitely made specifically for him, because I’ve never smelled this anywhere else.
“You clearly don’t care about my opinion.”
“Clearly.” I cross my arms to stop my hands from giving away my mental state. If there’s something I’ve learned about Eli, it’s that he’s a master manipulator and a predator who wouldn’t hesitate to use people’s weaknesses against them. Ruin them through those potential loss-of-control moments. Absolutely decimate them until there’s nothing left.
“But you do care enough to put on amateurish shows in front of me.” The slight tilt in his deep voice catches me off guard.
“You might believe you’re the sun and that the world revolves around you, and I’d hate to burst your bubble, but no, no show I do is for you.”
“Even when you were looking at me the entire time you were acting like a prostitute?”
I force a smile, refusing to fall for the provocation. “You know me. I love giving attention to admirers.”
A curve touches the corner of his lips. “So I’m one of the admirers now?”
“Clearly. Or you wouldn’t be following me around like a simp. Sorry, you’re not my type.”
“Is this the part where I get on my knees and beg?”
“I’m afraid that won’t cut it.”
“How about if I send flowers and a box of chocolates?”
“Unoriginal. Try harder.”
“If I cry into my pillow?”
“Only if I get to witness it personally.”
“So I have a shot. Fantastic.”
I release an exasperated sigh, putting an end to the stupid back and forth. I hate his blatant amusement whenever he riles me up for sport. But what I despise more is how I still fall for it every time.