Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
“Like a busy, important, fabulous god like me would be bothered with such tasks?” I retorted. “My eighteen-year-old former Playboy-bunny wife, Heidi, will sign those checks.”
A snarl flashed on her mouth, and I snorted.
“You’re going to remember this, Will Grayson,” she said, sounding all tough. “I blew your mind tonight. Even for just a minute.”
She turned over, giving me her back, and I smiled, smoothing the hair off her face and neck.
You’ve been blowing my mind for forever.
“Now, get out of here,” she said, nudging me playfully and closing her eyes.
I stared down at her, the shadows of the trees outside dancing across her back, and my body hummed, wanting more of her.
She was incredible, and I hated that no one saw how beautiful she was except me. I’d been dying in that bus and fucking happy for it.
Her body moved in slow, steady breaths, and I watched her lips meet, so softly time and again with each breath.
“I love you,” I murmured.
She didn’t shift or open her eyes, the exhaustion taking over as she sank deeper and deeper into sleep.
Standing up straight, I stepped away, but then I dropped my eyes to her back, seeing the bruises and scrapes.
How did she paint her back? Did her brother help her?
I doubted it.
Squatting down, I leaned in closer, studying the marks on her arm and back with the little moonlight streaming in through the sheer curtains.
Licking my thumb, I rubbed at the dark purple one with red around it, but…
The makeup didn’t rub off.
I narrowed my eyes, licking my thumb again and rubbing harder.
But then she whimpered, shifting away from me like it hurt.
I rubbed my finger against my thumb, not feeling any grease or oil from the makeup, either.
I stopped and looked up at her face, studying the drop of blood coming down from her eyebrow she said was part of her costume.
Heat filled my veins, and my pulse echoed in my ears as my mind raced.
The bruises on her legs that I saw in the swimming pool…
The bruise on her leg in lit class.
The overly baggy clothes and how she hardly ever showed skin.
Rising up, I stared down at her, tempted to drag her out of this bed.
But it was late, and she needed sleep.
Tonight was Devil’s Night. I’d let her rest for now.
Because later today I was going to find out what the fuck was going on once and for all.
Emory
Present
I pulled back, staring down at her face to make sure she was real.
Alex… I smiled from ear to ear. “Oh, my God.”
“Shh,” she hissed, glancing at the door. “I know. I know. But don’t start celebrating. Neither of us is saved yet.”
She shot off the bed and hurried to the door, listening for something, and then whipped around, running into the bathroom.
I stared after her as she filled a glass with water and drank it down. Where the hell did she come from?
Did…? How…?
And then I caught sight of the portrait on the wall. The massive, framed painting of a little girl and her corgis frolicking in some garden hung open like a door.
A secret passage.
I smiled to myself. I guess I didn’t need that screwdriver after all.
Walking back out, she pulled her hat off her head and smiled at me with her full lips and white teeth. She’d cut her hair. The A-line, shoulder-length bob curtained her long neck, strands hanging in her face and over her beautiful eyes, her green a shade darker than Will’s.
“How are you here?” I asked, taking in her tight jeans that were a lot more practical than the dress pants I’d arrived in, and her fitted, brown leather jacket that matched her rubber-soled brown leather boots.
She was dressed to run. Dirt scuffed her jaw, and she pulled off her gloves, black gunk embedded under her nails.
And then I registered what she had said a moment ago, my spine straightening. She’d watched us in the drawing room last night?
She’d been here, hiding. For at least a day.
I shot off the bed. “Did you put me here?”
I pinched my eyebrows together, anger suddenly replacing the relief I’d just felt.
But her eyes darted to mine. “No,” she said, knitting her brow. “God, no. I promise. I have no idea why you’re here.”
“Then why are you here?” I demanded, tightening the towel around me. “How…where did you come from? How did you know about the secret passageways? Where are we?”
I had too many questions, and the confusion from when I’d arrived started to bubble up again. No one had any answers.
She opened the painting wider and leaned down, pulling out a black duffle bag. Walking over, she dug out some clothes and handed them to me, remaining silent.
I looked down at the jeans and long-sleeved black T and...
Yes. Underwear and a bra.
She’d packed for this. She knew she was coming here, unlike me.