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)
My name is enough to make a non-existent offense a tragic reality.
“I don’t remember his face.” Her eyes brighten with an unnatural shine as she holds on to the desk with both hands.
“Then what did you see in the memory?”
“Just that he was, um, half-naked and I wrapped my arms around his neck and said my husband wouldn’t like this.”
She watches me closely, her face pale as if she’s a prisoner waiting for a sentence.
I resist a smile.
It was me.
But I can’t tell her that or she’ll be thrown for a loop if she realizes she can’t recall most of her life when trapped in her episodes.
For some reason, however, I also don’t want her to keep believing she cheated either, especially since she loathes that.
“It could’ve been nothing and a mere conjuring of your imagination,” I say in my usual detached tone.
“Right? I knew it must’ve been. I’m not the cheating type.” Her face lights up like a Christmas tree.
But then she hesitates, opens her mouth, then closes it again.
“What now?” I ask.
“If it is true…will you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive, because it isn’t true.”
“But if it is…?”
“It is not. Full stop.”
“I’d understand if you wouldn’t, because I wouldn’t either, you know.” She places a hand on my chest. “If you dare betray me, I’ll ruin your life.”
“More than what you’re doing already?”
“This is mere foreplay. I’ll make you regret being born if you stab me in the back.” She drops her hand. “Can we leave now?”
“I’ll have Henderson drop you home.”
“No, we are leaving and you’re the one who will take me. We should have an early dinner and catch a West End show. Maybe Moulin Rouge!”
“No, thanks.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“And I wasn’t stuttering.”
“You’ll spend time with me or I’ll find a man who can spare me his precious time.”
A muscle clenches in my jaw as I grab her arm. “Don’t you fucking dare say that again.”
“Glad you agree to come.” She smiles with glee. “Oh, also, you should sack Tyler from reception at King Enterprises and make Hailey senior.”
“Let me guess, she praised your looks and he didn’t?”
“Yeah, she’s nice and professional.” Her lips push out in a pout. “Besides, he was ogling my tits.”
“Consider him sacked.”
She laughs and shakes her head, probably thinking that she walked me straight into that decision.
Little does she know that I’m the one walking her round and round in the custom cage I’ve carefully constructed for her.
24
AVA
I’ve come to the depressing realization that my husband possesses not one single atom of fun in his gorgeous body.
He’s moody and broody, and the concept of chilling completely evades him.
Really, it should be no surprise that he’s an uptight arsehole with control-freak tendencies, not when I’ve been in his orbit for…my entire life.
And yet it is. In a sense, at least.
I thought maybe he knew how to laugh, just not with me.
He’s able to have a blast, but only when I’m not close.
But I don’t think he either is possible. At least, not genuinely. He’s only ever been happy when Creigh or his parents are around, and even that isn’t often guaranteed to shake his broody core.
One more reason why my idea for a night out is a fantastic way to defrost the sociopathic layer wrapped around his heart.
Though it’s probably wishful thinking. But, hey, I won’t know until I try.
Besides, he did accept my invitation—only after I threatened his possessive tendencies. Anyway, a win is a win.
Naturally, we went back to the house because he refused to let me walk one more step outside in the clothes I flaunted all over not one, but both of his workplaces.
The dress I opted for couldn’t be accused of being modest, but it does reach my knees. Also, naturally, Eli demanded another change because half of my back was on display.
A demand that was denied.
“You should’ve let me wear my cute skirt and top from this morning.” I feign a pout after we sit down at a tall platform table in a grand Lebanese restaurant in Belgravia.
Eli looks up from the menu, and the dispassion and obnoxious disregard in his gaze could trigger a few wars. “Cute? Is that what we’re calling them?”
“What else?”
“Audition clothes for a stripper is more fitting.”
“Hmm. I’ll consider it. You know any owners of the good clubs?”
He narrows his eyes to slits. “Is that sarcasm?”
“I’m dead serious. Those girlies have the best stories to tell. I’d build the most interesting girl squad ever.”
“You’re not stepping one foot in a strip club, Ava.”
“Not even as a spectator?”
“No.”
“But girls are hot.”
“More the reason you will not go.”
“I could go behind your back.” I wink and play with the straw of my very virgin mojito.
“You’re welcome to try.” He pauses, throws an uninterested glance at the menu, then focuses on my face again. “Do I need to put girls on my shit list as well?”