Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
I rubbed at my chest. I guessed I was still new in the world of anxiety.
I wasn’t a fan.
The worry that built up—I couldn’t fucking control it.
Deep breaths.
Deep, slow breaths.
“Are you okay?” Noa asked worriedly.
I’m fine.
I’m not fine.
I’m fucking drowning.
I exhaled and scrubbed my hands over my face.
“Don’t say you’re fine,” he pleaded.
I shook my head. “I’m not fine—but I will be.” I swallowed dryly and took another breath. Okay, time to get my shit in order. We had to get out of here, and I had to call my regular doctor. “Is Cam at the condo?” I assumed that was the case.
It hurt. We’d initially decided to rent, but then we’d found a small two-bedroom for sale in town, very close to where Noa and I worked. Not far from where Cam and KC worked as well. And we’d gone all in. Despite that we had a perfectly nice house half an hour away, we’d bought a small place to ensure we’d always be close. If any of us had to work late in town, we could stay there.
It also gave us moments of solitude as two couples, even though we usually preferred to stay together, all four of us.
And now…it was Cam’s escape. From me.
I flicked Noa a glance when he didn’t respond, and he was finding it much more interesting to bite his thumbnail and avoid eye contact.
“Noa?”
“Oh, poop chute,” he whispered. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He’s with Archie and his gang. He wanted another slave to talk to.”
What the—
I felt my eyes widen for a second. Archie—and Greer’s family—out in goddamn Winchester?
He wanted another slave to talk to.
“You took him to Winchester last night?”
He nodded hesitantly.
That was some…escape.
Fuck me, I had my work cut out for me. The whole goddamn reason I wanted less time at the office was because of these three men. I wanted, and could afford, more time with those who mattered the most. But in order to quit… I’d agreed to too much at work. I’d let my boss and fellow advisers tell me they couldn’t handle the transition without me, when, in reality, they were just putting clients’ needs ahead of everyone else. And that was the way of the finance world. But it didn’t have to be the way of mine.
What was even worse…I’d seen myself as more important. I’d taken some sick pleasure in having to be the one who trained the man taking over my clients. In a way, I wasn’t wrong; those clients had depended on me and my advice for years, and that was how they preferred it. If the firm intended to keep my clients around, Kevin would need to be the new me.
The question was why the fuck I cared.
My God, what if I was too late? What if the trust was broken for good?
I’d pushed my bullshit lies for weeks—if not months. I’d dismissed KC’s and Cam’s worries, all while I’d started making their fears come true.
KC came back into the room, and we locked eyes.
I fucked up.
It didn’t take more than that for him to understand Noa had told me.
“We’re gonna work this out.” He walked over to me and rested his cane against the bed. “How much did you tell him, freckles?”
“About Cameron? All of it, I think.” Noa shrugged.
KC nodded with a dip of his chin and began buttoning my shirt. “He needs a moment to regroup, that’s all. He’ll come home tonight or tomorrow. And in the meantime, you’ll think of one hell of a bold gesture to make him believe you’re gonna be his Master for a long-ass time.”
A bold gesture.
Noa snuck forward before the top buttons had been buttoned, and he pinched one of the electrodes that hadn’t been removed last night. He fucking yanked it.
“Boy,” I grunted. RIP, chest hair. I rubbed the spot. That hurt, dammit.
“Oops,” he choked out on a giggle.
KC shook his head in amusement and retrieved his phone. Scratch that, it was mine. “I brought this. Cam messaged before he went to bed last night and said he’d left you a text.”
Oh.
I drew a breath and accepted the phone, unsure I had the balls to read it.
Not that it stopped me from opening our message conversation faster than I could tell my boss I was quitting.
Nervousness tightened my gut.
I feel super selfish for leaving. I miss you, and I love you. I fucking live for you! And maybe that’s why I had to go. I can’t watch you kill yourself. So as soon as I knew you weren’t dying (at the moment), all I could think of was running away.
I don’t know what would hurt the most, every step I could’ve taken toward you, or every step I ended up taking away from you.
Please get better, Lucian. I beg you. Please choose us. We’ve chosen you. I love you. Master Greer is taking my phone now, so I don’t know when I can/will text again, but I’ll be home soon.