Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“Carter said he wanted to make it official while we’re here. That I have to marry him or else.”
Caught after the raw pleasure I was seeking and the temporary escape Loch afforded me, I feel exposed in the aftermath of what we just did. I slip my pants back on, hating that Carter stole our moment and that he’s still in my head, ruining each and every one after.
Loch pulls me close, holding me around the top of my legs, and asks, “Or else what?” The warmth of his eyes lit with the desire we shared while anger tinges the outer edges.
I’m feeling the same, caught between warring emotions. “He didn’t say, but it was assumed that I already knew. I just wish I could remember.” It’s absurd to walk a line between two lives but have solid footing only on one side. “I hate this. I hate feeling trapped by his threats. Are they empty, or does he really have something on me?”
Standing up, he cups my face. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not marrying him.”
“I’m not marrying him. Whatever it is he has over me, I’ll find a way out.”
“We will. Together.”
“He still thinks I’m Céline and cheating on him. I can tell that makes him anxious about everything working out. What do I do?”
“Watch your back and your front.” His hands slide to my shoulders, and he lightly massages. “If he’ll threaten you into marriage, he’s not above hurting you in other ways.”
I embrace him again, breathing him in, his strength and belief in me. “I don’t think he’d hurt me. He could have done it already if that’s what he intended.”
With his chin resting on my head, he nods. “Why do you think marriage is his end goal?”
I’ve had so many thoughts over the past twenty-four hours about this, but the one I keep coming back to is the most obvious, if not the simplest. “I don’t think I’m anything more than comfortable. He’s used to me.”
The pilot comes over the intercom, telling us to take our seats and buckle in. “It’s about to get bumpy.”
Little did we know, it already had.
Hidden behind the tall cypress lining the road, the château comes into view surrounded by sleeping olive groves lining the hills and fields. Even though it’s winter, the estate is more breathtaking than the photo could ever show.
I bet it’s even more incredible in fall when the olives are ripe with leaves and fruit hanging from the branches. I don’t know anything about olives, so how do I know that? Hope blooms inside me as I realize that’s a memory coming back, and we haven’t even been dropped off yet.
We reach the château and climb out. The front door swings open while we unload the suitcases. A woman I recognize as an older version of myself says, “Welcome.” My heart stops still in my chest, knowing that’s her. That’s my mom. The moment she lays eyes on me, she hurries toward me with arms wide open and wraps me in her embrace. “Céline, my beautiful daughter.”
My throat thickens as my body caves to her. I’m not sure if it’s her perfume or the comfort of the hug, but she’s so familiar that I close my eyes to take in every second I share with her.
I have no idea why I expected a French accent, and there are tinges of one heard, like when you spend too much time someplace and adapt to the surroundings.
She leans back and lifts my chin. “How are you?”
My heart beats harder as my eyes water. I want to tell her everything and wish I could be honest and not lie because of Carter. I raise my chin. I have a feeling it’s something she taught me. “I’m happy to see you.” So happy.
“I’m happy to see you, too, darling.” She spies Allison and moves to kiss each of her cheeks like an old friend. “So good to see you, dear.” I see the moment her eyes find Loch . . . and then Carter. She fails to hide the distinctive difference between smiling and not smiling, but she’s quick to right her expression.
“This is my friend,” I say, “Loch Westcott.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Westcott. I’m Sofie Schroder.” When she lifts to give her customary greeting, he meets her halfway. “Will you be staying with us as well?”
The brown of his eyes is brighter under the midday winter’s sun, an amber coloring them when he replies, “I will. Thank you for having me.”
She’s as charming as I imagined, but I can’t wait to see if it carries when she greets Carter. Where does he stand in my parents’ eyes?
My mom says, “Hello,” and then turns and starts for the door. That’s it. I approve. He won’t win with any of us, especially when we stand together. I have hope that whatever he’s holding over me can be overcome, especially here where he’ll receive no sympathy. She adds, “We should get out of the cold air.”