Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Heat consumes me and I do my best to ignore it as I take care of myself, every so often glancing up and expecting him to be standing in the doorway.
He never appears, though.
It takes me a good ten minutes before the balm goes into effect enough for me to scoot off the bed. The soreness is much more manageable on my feet although I’m freezing without the covers.
Still naked, I venture to the en suite bathroom. There, a toothbrush and hairbrush wait for me on the edge of the counter. They’re both pink and still in packaging.
After calling out his name and even peeking beyond his bedroom door to the vacant hall lined with a textured dark blue wallpaper, I determine he’s left me alone.
Every dark mahogany drawer begs me to open it, but I resist. I go about my business in the bathroom, carefully placing the items back where they were and the packaging into the trash.
It’s only when I come out of the bathroom, feeling somewhat better after drinking water from the tap that I see the shirt laid out on the bench at the foot of the bed with a note.
It’s written on a thick piece of parchment.
I won’t be gone long. If you wake up and need me, call me from the phone in the kitchen.
Feel free to make yourself more comfortable. Do not leave the wing unless it’s to go to the kitchen.
He’s left only a simple Henley for me to wear. It’s his and quite large so the hem of it rests around my upper thigh. I can’t lie, a single sniff of the shirt reminds me of him and it soothes the pain of not knowing what’s going to happen for just a moment. It vanishes quickly as the headache reminds me of its presence.
I reread the word kitchen and debate on waiting for Declan before leaving. The attempt to sit on the edge of the bed proves to be painful so I’m quick to get back to my feet. With the note in my hand, I take in my surroundings. It’s all heavy foreboding furniture, no pictures or knickknacks. Everything looks expensive and cold. There’s not an ounce of personality and nothing sitting out to occupy my curiosity.
There isn’t a television either. There’s nothing but quiet.
A chill runs over my shoulders and I debate on opening a drawer in search of pants or socks even, but I don’t.
If he wanted me to wear something else, he’d have given it to me. His comment about me snooping also comes to mind and a freezing cold grips my shoulders. I glance at the note again and then the bedroom door. I debate on lying down again, on simply sleeping—as if I could without remembering what happened before last night—until he’s back. I nearly do it, too, but a spike of pain rips through my head.
Caffeine withdrawal and starvation are a bitch.
Unable to fight those off any longer and the continued quiet leading me to have thoughts I would rather not deal with, I decide the kitchen is where I should go. Declan might even be there waiting for me.
Maybe that’s why he wrote it in the note.
An eerie feeling clings to me as I open the door and look out into the hall again. “Declan?” No one answers me. It’s so quiet I can hear my heart racing.
The kitchen led to a large foyer, and that foyer opened onto Declan’s wing … I’m almost certain. My heart beats harder, but I’m almost positive it was that easy. If it wasn’t, surely he wouldn’t have allowed it.
I shut the door behind me, the note he left still in my hand and I cross my arms over my chest as I wander down the hall.
The dark navy blue color palette is a constant down the long winding hallway. The doors are carved dark mahogany, and every one of them is shut. There are three doors in total that I pass. Two on the left and only one on the right before coming to the double doors that exit to the foyer.
I debate on knocking on them, on testing to see if Declan is there but then I read the note again.
My palm is damp as I hold the parchment tighter.
Whatever I do today, I can’t disappoint him. Not again. Fear still lingers and there’s a dread that doesn’t let go of me.
I’m not given much time to think on it as I step out into the massive foyer. The black and white marble tiles feel cool against the soles of my feet. Heavy walnut double doors with carved crystal doorknobs lead to what I know to be the other wings of the estate. I know there are five in total, one for each of the Cross brothers, and the last …