Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 142783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
A swift, unspoken claim.
“We need to get you inside and get you warm.”
My eyes flicked all over his face, searching for an answer.
The man heard the silent question for what it was.
“I take care of what’s mine.” He repeated what he’d said last night, the words a seductive threat that would ruin me if I let them.
The man was luring me into a gulf of contradiction.
No right, and no wrong.
No up, and no down.
I was subject to this division that would cut me in two.
He set his palm on the small of my back. “This way.”
The murmur was a crack of incongruity.
Whiplash.
My head spun with the push and pull as he guided me toward the elevator and punched in a code. The doors swept open, and a bluster of heat radiated out.
A sigh got free as I stepped inside, and I stuffed my hands into the coat pockets. I made to move away, to put as much space between us in the confined space as possible.
God knew we were already too close, balancing on a quickly fraying rope that would hang us both.
But no, Logan looped his arm around my waist and drew me closer.
It swamped me in his aura.
Clove and cinnamon and corruption.
My throat tightened and my stomach flipped, and I wondered if I’d willingly set myself a trap. If it really were a mistake after all because I was pretty sure the only thing I was doing was providing him with the ammunition to destroy.
Placing myself in Logan’s massive, manipulative hands.
I had been there before, hadn’t I?
He punched in another code, and the elevator lifted us upward. It came to a stop on the top floor.
The doors whooshed open to an elegant foyer. There was one double door to the left and another set to the right.
He nudged me toward the left, his voice a controlled rumble. “This way.”
I gulped for clarity. For surety. Praying this was right.
I hoped I hadn’t just traded one horrible situation for another.
But I’d already made this bed. Had given this man my word.
I wouldn’t go back on it.
So I sucked it up and followed along beside him. He slipped a key into the lock and swung open the door to his apartment.
“This is it.”
I came to a standstill just inside.
Logan released me, clicked the door shut behind us, and strolled deeper into his home.
So callously.
So arrogantly.
Energy buzzed.
A hum in the air.
He peeled himself from his suit jacket and tossed it to the back of a chair. He eyed me the entire time, watching me as if I were a new piece of the décor.
I tore myself from the trap of his gaze and busied myself with taking in what he had become.
I was used to pretentious things. To riches and wealth. They’d always meant little to me, and they were supposed to mean even less to us, but I guessed I should have recognized his weakness all along.
It was in his blood.
Inevitable.
And nothing else mattered but his rise to the top.
Not even me.
Here, the proof of that greed was exuded in this pretension that was purely masculine. Everything was both rugged and sleek.
Rough and dark.
As if a high-rise loft in New York had been juxtaposed with the presidential suite at a ski resort.
To the left was a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the quaint city that rambled on below and the mountain peaks in the distance. To the right was a massive fireplace that roared of overpowering warmth, the lapping of flames heating the smooth, black-stone floors.
The living room was filled with oversized suede furniture with a plush rug in the middle. It was fitted with comfy blankets and pillows intermixed with abstract statues and artwork.
The kitchen ran the opposite wall from the entry. Everything was chunky wood, frosted glass, and thick cuts of stone. A large island separated the two spaces, and six short stools sat facing the kitchen area. There was a small nook with a round table set that overlooked the forest at the back.
There was a hall that ran the wall on the right and another set of double doors that sat on the far left on the other side of the kitchen.
“Welcome home, Aster.” He cracked a grin. It wasn’t nice.
It was strange, looking at him then, at this cruel, harsh, bitter man up against who I’d witnessed earlier. The easy playfulness with which he’d interacted with his nephew.
I wondered which side of him was real.
Or maybe they both were, and I just brought out the worst in him.
“So, what now?” I threaded my fingers together.
His expression shifted to something unreadable. “That’s up to you, isn’t it? You’re the one who came to me. It’s on you to figure out what you want. What you’re willing to fight for. If you’re brave enough to see it through.”