Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
“Z,” she says, her eyes darting to the threshold of the room.
“It’s all right.” I take her jaw in my hand, pull her face to mine, and kiss her hard. She moans as she tastes herself on my lips. The connection burns between us, strong and raw.
After she’s upstairs and her bedroom door has closed, I go to find Cade in the kitchen. He’s leaning against the counter, his hands in his pockets.
“You need to contain yourself, Zander.”
“No,” I snap. “I’ll be fucking her on every inch of furniture. On every inch of the floor. I’m going to make that woman feel alive and loved and wanted.”
His eyes narrow, but there’s a thoughtful expression behind them.
My anger is as hot as my love for her right now. It’s even stronger now that I’ve had a chance to let go of the bitter grief I’ve been holding onto for so, so long. “I mean it, Cade. I’m going to fuck her whenever I want. Wherever I want. Until all her sadness is gone and the past takes its claws all the way out of her. And as for you, you need to send a damn text before you come over.”
Cade stares for a moment, shaking his head as if I’ve lost my mind. His expression shifts and he nods, slapping a stack of papers down on the kitchen counter. “Fine. I can send a text. I’ll send a text next time I’m going to stop by, but you need to see this.”
I go to his side, forcing myself to calm, and look at the papers. “What are these?” I flick through them. They appear to be medical reports … news articles. It’s a mix of papers with several lines highlighted. Including “strangulation” but then “death by suicide.”
“What the hell are these?”
“This is what you asked Silas to research.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Ella’s mother didn’t die by suicide.”
We both look down at the documents together. The awkwardness of the past moment is forgotten. I flip through the papers, then again.
“There are a lot of things that don’t add up,” Cade says to my right as I read.
I’m reminded of the conversation I had with Kam a few nights ago. “Kamden told me he thinks her father did it.”
“Why would he tell you that?” Cade sounds skeptical. He’s rarely ever thrown off his game, but this is bothering him. “And how, exactly, would he know that?”
The front door opens, then bangs shut. “Hello?” Kamden calls.
The fact is, I don’t know what’s going on. But Kam’s footsteps come closer by the second. I use the time to lean in close and murmur something to my brother. “I think it’s time the cameras came down.”
Kam steps into the kitchen then. Crossing swiftly to the island, he drops a box of pastries onto the counter. Cade locks eyes with me and gives me a single, silent nod.
ELLA
It’s a rotation.
Damon, Zander, Kam, Zander, Silas, Zander. Occasionally Dane. Zander is a constant but gives them space. And they take shifts watching, questioning, and observing every little thing I do more often than not.
Men revolve around me and I’m held accountable to each of them. Any slight stress from any of the men monitoring me is immediately alleviated by Z.
In a past life, I’d have resented all of them. I’d have pitched a fit and fought tooth and nail for privacy and freedom. Even Kamden for interfering, for being overbearing, for not leaving me the hell alone, would be on the receiving end of my wrath. But this go-around? I look forward to the sessions, the questions, the appointments. Maybe it’s because they’re all I have left. Or maybe it’s because Z is there at the end of all of them, rewarding me and reminding me that none of this matters.
As I stir sugar into my tea, Kam shuffles the papers on the counter next to me. He has stacks laid out along the granite. This is cup two for me and the steam billows outward as I blow across the top. The mug itself is a present Kam gave me only two hours ago when he arrived. A pearl blue iridescent mug that’s limited edition from Tiffany.
“I can’t help but think you’re trying to butter me up.”
“I wish,” Kam answers absently as he shuffles through the papers. He doesn’t look back at me, very much consumed with the next line of business.
Shifting on the stool, I’m careful to gather the fabric of my skirt so it doesn’t bunch. It’s a classic navy blue high-waisted number and I paired it with a simple short-sleeved white blouse that’s loosely tucked in. I decided to attempt to look as if I’m prepared for business, even if in reality I won’t be leaving the house and I could have stayed in my pajamas from yesterday.