Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
It would be a lot easier to keep that in mind if he wasn’t so unpredictable. One minute, he’s practically throwing me around, treating me like a thing. An object. Something without any real feelings or thoughts. Like I’m only here for him, for his sake, for his pleasure.
Then he goes and tucks me in with a kiss on my forehead. I’ve never felt so cared for. My brain is screwing with me, is all. I’m so used to being treated like shit that the slightest little kindness has me all confused.
It would’ve been easier to wrap my head around last night if he had left me the way I was, on the floor, trying to pull my mind and my body together after what he did. Considering how he treated me, how rough and almost brutal he was, to leave me on the floor without a backward glance would make sense. I could understand that. There wouldn’t be any questions this morning.
I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to him than what he shows the world. Because for a minute there, he was tender. Sweet and gentle. He treated me like I was more than a few holes for him to fill. Like I mattered.
I’m not an idiot, though. I’m not about to pretend there’s more to us than a business arrangement. He’s getting what he paid for, and that’s it. And if anything, I should be grateful for his consideration. Something tells me that psychopath at the club with the knife wouldn’t be so considerate.
Just the thought of that wack job is enough to get me out of bed. A hot shower helps relax muscles I strained during all that fighting last night. It’s a good thing this is a temporary arrangement, or else I would be walking around with a heating pad all the time.
Even after that, after I fix a little breakfast and some coffee, I can’t get Lucian out of my head. I can’t stop looking toward the bedroom, remembering everything.
That’s it. I can’t stay here all day, going crazy. After washing up the breakfast dishes, I decide to get dressed and go out. It’s times like this when I feel the absence of friends. Other girls, especially. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do, go shopping together? Granted, I never did like shopping with anybody else. I loved spending time with Eve, but shopping wasn’t included in that. Her coming from a rich family was never more apparent than in the times we spent at the mall. When you grow up without any money, every purchase takes consideration. It’s a habit I’ve never been able to break. I doubt I ever will.
Nobody has patience for that kind of thing if they don’t understand how it feels. When a shopping trip isn’t just something you do for fun on a Saturday afternoon. On top of that, I hate standing around, waiting for other people to make up their minds. It bores me. I would rather shop by myself, even if I can’t help but feel a little jealous of the girls walking together in groups at the mall.
The grass is always greener, right?
I can’t help but be tempted by the aroma of cinnamon and sugar as I walk past the Cinnabon stand. Maybe I’ll stop by later before I leave. It’s been ages since I’ve had one of those completely addictive treats. There are girls who look to be around my age hanging around the coffee stand, where a pair of cute college-age guys are working. They might as well live on another planet. They’re so different from me.
What would they think if they knew about the club only a handful of miles from here? I have to bite back a smile. None of them would guess what I’ve seen, what I’ve done.
And compared to Lucian, those guys behind the stand might as well be children. Let the other girls have them.
That’s a dangerous train of thought. I need to stop thinking that way, or else I might end up regretting it. Lucian’s not mine, and he never will be. I don’t mean anything to him. As far as I’m concerned, he’s given me the funds for this little shopping trip, and he’s made it possible for me not to have to take whatever shitty job hires me first. But that’s where it ends.
As I walk away from the stand, I can’t help but feel like there are eyes on me. It’s not one of the guys working there, that’s for sure—they’re too busy being flirted with, acting like their job is super important and sexy. I look around behind me, over my shoulder, but I can’t see anybody out of the ordinary. Just people walking around, a few older folks who look like they’re getting their exercise for the day, a pair of women pushing strollers.