Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
I push my way blindly through a set of double doors, only marginally aware of my surroundings. There are people in front of me. First staff—maids maybe, bellhops, I don’t know. They are wearing uniforms. But then others. Managers.
“Ma’am? Can you please—”
They reach for me. But I duck out of the way and keep going. When I get to the stairs I realize I’m… high. Up on some high floor. I don’t even properly recall getting here, but there is only one way down now. When I look over my shoulder, Mercer has burst through the doors.
“Nova.” This one word is a command. Harsh and bold.
I slip my shoes off, then start sprinting down the stairs.
“Nova.” He says it one more time, then nothing.
He’s taking the elevator.
He’s going to be waiting for me when I get to the lobby. Or… whatever that place is. This is not a hotel. At least, not a hotel for regular people. It’s like the club. Private.
Hell, the doors might even be locked from the inside. For all I know, I’m trapped.
But I don’t care.
I will not stay here for one more second.
I keep going. I’m just rounding the landing between the second and third floors when I hear the ding of an elevator and I know that’s him.
That’s Mercer.
He’s going to come at me, and take my face in his hands, and kiss me.
He’s going to try to kiss this whole thing away.
I cannot let him do that. I can’t. Because if he gets close enough to kiss me like that, I will give in. I will start listening to him. And I will lose… whoever I am right now.
I have a very sick feeling that this isn’t the first time I’ve made this escape. And if it’s not the first, then I never did escape.
“It will go different this time.” I mutter this under my breath as I veer away from the stairs and hit the second-floor hallway. It’s lined with rooms, and maid carts, and there are people too. They look at me funny, noticing the shoes in my hand as I briskly pass by them.
Then they are whispering behind my back. Calling for security.
I push through a fire exit, take the stairs, get to the bottom, and push through again to find myself outside on a wet street in a mist of rain.
That’s when I see him.
Not Mercer.
Olsen.
No. Well, yes. Olsen. But he’s—“Travis?”
He’s tense at first. Wearing a tuxedo, too. This is my first clue that he’s in on this. Maybe, perhaps, he’s even the reason why I never escape. Because I come down those stairs, push my way through the exits, end up here on this street, and there he is.
The only real thing from my past.
And I fall for it.
Every time.
“Nova. Listen to me.” His voice is stern and low, his eyes flashing with anger. And I have to say that the old phrase ‘you catch more flies with honey’ applies here. So why is he showing me anger?
I know all the reasons he should. I remember our past now. And I fucked him over. He should hate me. And that’s where this anger should come from.
But that’s not where it does come from.
He’s not angry at me.
And that’s why when he comes at me—at a pretty good and determined pace—I do not run. I wait.
Then he’s there. Right in front of me. Pressing his hard body against me. His hands come up to my face and I almost close my eyes, waiting for the kiss. But he doesn’t kiss me. He cups my earrings into his palms and closes his fists around them. Then he whispers, “There is a microphone in your earring and a camera in the largest stone of your necklace.”
And this is when I know… he’s forgiven me.
“Come with me, Nova. You’re not gonna want to trust me, but you have to. I will explain everything in the limo. But we will not talk about it. I hope you understand because we need to go now.” Then he grabs my hand and starts pulling me towards the end of the street where I now see that a limo has been waiting.
“Don’t worry,” Olsen—Travis—says loudly. “We’re going home. You’re gonna be OK, Nova. Trust me.” He stops at the door of the limo and looks me in the eyes again. I can only assume that he’s doing this for ‘them.’ The Institute. Because he knows he’s being watched when he says, “Do you trust me?”
I nod my head.
“Say it out loud, Nova.”
“Yes, Olsen. I trust you.”
“Good. Get in.”
He opens the door to the limo and waves me towards it. I get in and immediately start to shiver. By the time he sits down next to me on the butter-soft leather bench seat, my teeth are chattering.
“Here,” Olsen says, taking off his suit coat. “You’re freezing. Put this on.”