Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Pleasure to meet you, Lady Pennington. I’m Gene, servant for the house of Draak.”
“Cami.”
“My apologies, Lady Pennington, I cannot be so informal. The mere idea of it may cause me to break out in the most unbecoming rash.” Our shaking is brief and followed by a cheeky smirk. “However, given the way Master Draak’s jaw is ticking, I think it is safe to conclude I will officially be calling you something else sooner rather than later.” His hand is tucked back out of sight. “Yes?”
There’s no chance to question him about what he means due to Ptur interrupting. “A.D. come help me transport the prisoner.”
His brother nods his compliance while I unhappily glare. “Would it kill you to call her my mother?”
“It might, so we better not risk it,” he playfully retorts. “Gene will you please escort Cami to my balcony for a kabob dinner—that I will make—while we secure the target?”
“I wanna go with you.” The statement is given alongside the straightening of my spine. “I wanna know where she is at all times.”
He quirks an amused eyebrow. “I just saved your life from a small army of elves, and you still don’t trust me?”
“Correct.”
His scoff is littered in mirth as well as disbelief.
“I wanna know that she’s being treated well or at the very least that no Amanda Waller fuckery is at play.”
“Who is this Amanda Waller being? Does she work for the company? Do I need to have her terminated?”
“She’s a fictious person that I was using for a comparison point that was just clearly missed.” Brushing off the non-understood reference is effortless. “What I’m saying is I want to know she’s being treated justly. Innocent until proven guilty.”
“She tried to choke me to death on top of some location assessment reports! How is that anywhere near innocent?!”
“It’s your word against hers, which I haven’t actually heard yet thanks to your Arkham Asylum like treatment.”
Cluelessness appears in his expression for a second time, something that encourages me to push past another reference he obviously doesn’t understand.
“Look, I’m going with you and then we’ll have dinner to discuss the numerous matters at hand.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
He folds his arms firmly across his chest. “No. You will follow Gene to my private balcony and wait for me with any drink of your choice while I tend to this. He will happily retrieve you anything you can imagine.”
“Such flattery, Master Draak,” the servant quietly gushes.
“No,” I instantly rebut.
Ptur’s gaze narrows. “No?”
“You said it to me first, therefore I know you know what the word means, Ptur.”
“Cameron-”
“Let me be crystal clear here.” Stepping slightly towards him, I maintain my strong disposition. “This is not a negotiation. This is not a situation in which we compromise. And this damn sure isn’t a ‘daddy knows best’ moment. I will be escorting her alongside the two of you or other measures—measures I probably should’ve already taken yet haven’t courtesy of the voice in my head—involving the authorities will be executed. Whether that’s the local pd, state, or cashing in on a banked favor to the Feds is a decision I do not want to make until I must make it. Are we on the same page of this document, Ptur, or would you like me to turn it back until we are?”
His gray gaze glosses over with a hypnotizingly platinum shade at the same time he releases a long, stream of smoke from his flared nostrils.
I’ve said it once before, but it bears repeating.
I would totally let him buy me a great steak and enjoy a great fuck if these were normal circumstances.
Or at least not…these circumstances.
And I don’t just mean the office ones.
“Fine,” Ptur grunts, spinning away to open the opposite car door. “I expect you to keep our faster pace without complaint.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Oh, sweet Mother of Dragons, did The Great Ones just gift me a front row seat to my brother losing an argument?” A.D.’s arrogant laughing is followed by him joyfully strutting over to assist in the collection of my monstrous-sized mom. “First a pregnant mate, and now this? Is it Sule time already?”
Anxious to help, to prove I am useful, I retreat backwards to retrieve the weapons bag. “What’s Sule?”
“Basically shifter Christmas,” Ana answers from behind me.
“Shifter? As in-”
“As in that is a conversation you and I will have in private during dinner,” Ptur swiftly bites while carefully dragging my unconscious parent out of the vehicle.
Having already won one battle, I decide against the urge to try for another.
Gene enthusiastically announces he’ll be returning to the manor to prepare what was requested and politely escorts Ana away with him, the feisty female insisting that she can help with dinner arrangements.
That she’d be happy to help.
That she will be helping despite his aversion.
Our relocation task begins the opposite direction of them and takes longer than expected. While I found the earlier conversation regarding how vast the estate was to be somewhat endearing, actually living it is really fucking unpleasant, and not just because my designer flats were not built for the rougher points of terrain. Between the heat and stubbing my toes on rocks during my determined persistence to keep up with the long-legged pair, I’m often left panting and grumbling and tripling the amount of alcohol I plan to ingest the first opportunity I get.