Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Silence passed between us for a while. The waiter brought our meal, and of course, Grave had ordered the biggest steak on the menu. We dined in silence, the two of us at a place in our relationship where a conversation wasn’t necessary.
After a while, he spoke. “Cauldron suspects Camille has returned to her former line of work. I got her a cushy job as a sales associate at an art gallery, but when I called down there, they said she never showed up.”
He didn’t ask me a question, but he was definitely interrogating me. He had that way about him, to say one thing but imply something else.
That thunderous gaze settled on me, piercing through flesh and bone to the soul underneath.
I stayed quiet.
“Elise.”
“Yes?”
His eyes narrowed farther. “I know you didn’t run into her at the market.”
I told her I’d keep her secret safe, but it seemed like the brothers had figured it out.
“You introduced her to Jerome, didn’t you?”
I gave a loud sigh, and that was my confession of guilt. “The woman can do whatever she wants. She doesn’t owe Cauldron a damn thing.”
“I never said she did.”
“It’s none of your business. It’s none of Cauldron’s business either.”
“He ran into her at a party. Saw her new client. Bartholomew. You know who that is?”
I grabbed my wineglass and took a drink. “Just because I’m a whore doesn’t mean I know all the players in town.”
“Elise.”
“No, I don’t know him.”
“Then consider yourself lucky because the asshole is dangerous.”
“Camille knew what she was getting herself into.”
“Or she was just too depressed to understand what she was getting herself into.”
Camille was a nice girl and I felt no ill will toward her, but whenever I listened to Grave talk about her, an ugly monster reared up from inside my chest. I got jealous every single time, knowing how much she had meant to him. “I don’t think Cauldron has the right to care, not after what he did.”
Grave turned silent, cutting into his meat and slowly eating it, piece by piece. “I agree. But I still feel bad for him. I know he cares for her, and despite the way she acts, I know she cares for him. If Cauldron just got his shit together, his life wouldn’t be so fucked up. The guy has issues. Serious issues.”
“Like what?”
He gave me a long stare.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s not my story to tell.”
“So…you aren’t mad at me because I introduced her to Jerome?”
After he chewed his bite, he shook his head. “No. She was going to do it whether you helped her or not. I just wish her response to heartache wasn’t self-destruction.”
“Being a whore isn’t self-destructive. It provides wealth that I wouldn’t be able to attain otherwise. She told me that’s what drew her to the job in the first place. She knows I have a beautiful apartment, a Range Rover, and a nanny. Instead of giving her goods away for free to a man who cut her down, she wants some serious money. Can’t say I blame her.”
He continued to eat, remaining silent for the rest of the meal. When the bill came, he paid it, and then we drove to his apartment a few blocks away. The second we walked inside, I was surrounded by his presence, the place that had become a second home to me. Decorated in masculine elegance, it reflected his spirit perfectly.
He took my jacket off my shoulders before he headed to his bedroom. The fire was already burning in the fireplace, the fog pressed up against the windows with the curtains drawn.
On the bed was a sexy ensemble, crotchless bottoms and a lacy bra that would barely cover my breasts.
Wordlessly, he undressed then lay on top of the bed, muscular and naked, his semi-hard dick lying against his stomach. His fingers locked together behind his head, and he stared at me, silently asking me to try on the piece waiting for me.
This was the first time he’d done something like that. It was usually straight down to business, regardless of what I wore, even my white pajamas with the little pink hearts. I took it into the bathroom and changed, donning the two pieces as well as the black stockings.
When I came back into the room, he was already hard, like he was imagining how I’d look in the lingerie and how he’d fuck me as I wore it. He sat there and looked me up and down, wearing a hard gaze that could cut through steel.
His stare was hotter than the sun.
He abruptly left the bed then came toward me, a mountain to my valley, and then came behind me, his hands grabbing on to my hips as he dipped his lips to my shoulder. He pressed a kiss to my skin. Then another. He moved to my collarbone before caressing my neck with kisses, before inhaling my scent with a masculine groan of approval. His big hands started to grip me, holding on to my hips before squeezing my tits in the delicate fabric.