Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“But...”
“Make him choose life over death, little witch. Make him choose love over loss, and I personally guarantee, he’ll have you kneeling at his feet before you can open your mouth to say hi.”
His voice darkened. “And if he doesn’t. If he’s so fucking cowardly not to finally admit that he needs you, then I’m coming to get you. I’m going to follow through on my threat to keep you barefoot and bound, and then we’ll see just how long he can survive without the one thing he needs to exist.”
Chapter Fourteen
THE FRONT DOOR CLOSING BEHIND ME MADE me jump.
My hands shook as I slung my handbag strap on the coat rack and dumped my keys in the pretty amber-and-white glass bowl I’d bought at a market last year. The clinging of metal on glass might as well have been a foghorn.
I flinched and toed off my high heels, sinking down a couple of inches as my bare feet kissed the polished floorboards of our small foyer.
I’d done the unimaginable this morning.
I’d not only checked out of my hotel sanctuary—after promising myself I’d stay for three weeks—but I’d also called in sick to work.
A first.
Guilt kept pestering me but...needs must.
I’d only had the strength to do it because today was Nick’s rostered day off, and he probably thought he was safe to stay at home, knowing I was at work.
A scuff and a quick curse came from his room before he appeared in the corridor holding a roll of cellotape. “Ella?” He scowled, his handsome face wearing the frown far too well.
I cursed him for looking so good in black cotton trackpants and a white t-shirt. A smudge marked his hem, looking like dust.
“I thought you were working today.” His frown deepened, his trimmed beard framing tight lips.
Doing my best to stay casual and super chilled, I shrugged and padded through the lounge. “I decided to take a personal day.”
“A personal day?” His shoulders tensed. “Why?”
Cutting over the shagpile rug, I glanced at the couch. The pillows were plumped perfectly, the TV remote placed just so by the trio of vanilla candles I’d put in the middle of the wooden coffee table.
Everything looked the same, and yet...something was wrong.
Something isn’t quite right—
My heart sank.
The side table by the stressless chair he favoured was empty of his current stack of books. His cell phone charger that always remained plugged into the wall was missing, and the one and only item he’d added to my decor—a picture of him and his late brother with a river and two kayaks behind them—was gone off the mantel.
A rock lodged in my throat, and my sleepless night pressed on my temples. The slight hangover didn’t make things any better, and I hoped I managed to act my ass off, so he didn’t have a clue how close I was to ugly crying.
Sniffing as if I’d found fault in the cleanliness of our lounge, I headed toward him and narrowed my eyes. “Already started packing, huh?”
“Yes, well...” He dropped his eyes, unable to look at me. “I did tell you I was moving out. I’m going to start shipping my stuff over now. I’ll stay in a hotel for the final few weeks. Easier that way.” He shot me a look, his hazel gaze a murky shade of brown—a shade that looked a lot like shame—instead of the blazing emerald of lust.
I didn’t say anything for the longest moment, dragging out the uncomfortableness as he fought the urge to fidget or run. Finally, I forced a smile. “Perfect. That works great.”
“Oh good.” His forehead scrunched. “Wait...it does?”
“Yep.” Brushing past him, I padded into my room and unbuttoned my blouse. He froze on the threshold, not taking his eyes off me as I shrugged out of my cream top and dumped it onto my bed. My lacy ivory bra was charmed with the push-up variety of magic and my breasts sat perky and plump.
I would never admit that I’d hoisted the straps a little bit higher this morning, just in case I had the opportunity to strip in front of him, using whatever tricks I had to do exactly what Hunter had said.
Break him.
Pulverise him.
Shatter him into teeny tiny pieces so he couldn’t exist without me holding those pieces together forever.
“Ella...c-can you put on a shirt?” His voice sounded as if a boa constrictor had wrapped around his windpipe.
Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I glanced at him as I dragged the zipper of my skirt down and let it fall to the floor. “Nope.” My sheer black thigh-high stockings were an indulgence and one I was insanely grateful I’d decided to wear yesterday, despite my melancholy mood.
“Jesus Christ,” he growled, his eyes dousing me in fire.
“Oh, I’m sorry...am I making you uncomfortable? This is my room, after all. You can leave any time you want.”