Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Positive.”
Six’s face goes grim. Tension thickens the air around us. None of us are happy with this information. At least we can all agree on the fact that Scar is bad news.
“Then, it appears we will all be working together for a while—at least until we eradicate the threat,” Eight says and we all nod.
Leo and I look at one another. We’re not happy, but we need to do this. We need to make sure our mates are safe from Scar and anyone who might be working with him—because Six is right. We don’t know how many of us were truly in that facility. We were just going by the numbers and what we were told. The guy standing with Six and Eight is proof that. Clearly, we were lied to. While we’re at it, I intend on finding out all I can about the guy who has aligned himself with our ex-brothers. I can only assume he shifts, like them.
I need to know more…but only after Grace is safe.
11
GRACE
“What’s that sigh for, beautiful?”
I turn to look at Stark—it would seem that’s my fiancé’s name. He may look somewhat familiar, but nothing else about this situation does. That includes what apparently is my home. There’s nothing about this apartment that screams mine. Then again, when I look in the mirror, there’s nothing in the reflection that feels like me either.
“Nothing looks familiar.”
“Nothing at all?” he asks, frowning.
I shake my head helplessly. “Nothing.”
“What about this lamp?” he asks, going to the bedside to a beat-up, old, table lamp. It’s white with a pink frilly shade.
It’s kind of ugly and it is also completely different from the sleek black one on the other nightstand. In fact, this room looks like it was made for two completely different people and I’m pretty sure that neither of those people are me—at least not the me I am now.
“It’s ugly. Did you pick it out?”
I know I’m being rude, but I find myself hoping against hope that he did and that way the horrible taste in question will not be mine.
“Um, this is your lamp.”
No such luck.
I’m thinking I must have had horrible taste before the accident. I hope I had better taste in men. At least Stark is prettier to look at than the lamp is.
“Figures,” I mutter, disgusted with myself.
“I’m sorry you’re stressed, Gracie.”
“Gracie? I thought you said my name is Grace.”
“I thought Gracie was a cute pet name,” he says.
“Oh,” I mumble. “Did I like pet names before?”
“A better question might be, do you like them now?” he asks instead of answering.
“Huh?” I ask, sitting down on the bed to look at him. I would prefer to remain standing, but my legs are really shaky.
The doctor insisted I was ready to come home. Truth be told, I would have rather stayed in the hospital a little longer. I don’t know what Stark expects of me, but we’re most definitely not going to be sleeping together. He might see the woman he asked to be his wife when he looks at me, but when I look at him, I see a stranger.
Stranger danger…
“I think, since you can’t remember the past, the two of us should start fresh. So, let’s forget about before. We will begin as if we just met one another. So, you tell me, do you like pet names now?”
“I…It sounds weird,” I admit quietly.
“Then, no more Gracie. You’ll just be Grace.”
“Does that mean we can get rid of the lamp too?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he walks over to the nightstand, grabs the lamp, jerks the plug out and throws it in the trash can by the wall. It’s too big for the can, so over half of it sticks out, but for some reason it makes me smile.
“There,” he says with a smile. He’s being very sweet. He’s been very good to me, even though all of this has changed his world too. He should have a woman who loves him and is planning their marriage. What he has is someone who barely knows how to talk to him.
“I’m sorry about all of this,” I murmur lamely, feeling lost.
Stark stares at me for a moment and some kind of emotion moves over his face that I can’t really name. I let out a soundless gasp as he kneels down in front of me. His hand goes to my knee, and it feels like my skin grows instantly hot, as if there’s an electrical current running between us.
“You have nothing to be sorry about, beautiful. Nothing whatsoever—”
“But I’m sure you want the woman you love back and here I am—”
“Stop, Grace,” he says, so gently that my heart squeezes in my chest. He brings his other hand up and curves it against my neck. The tips of his fingers press against the base of my spine. “Having you this close, seeing your smile, being able to talk to you, while looking into your eyes, is a dream that I’ve been craving for more years than I could tell you. If all I ever have is this, then I’m okay because you’re here with me. Don’t worry about the rest. Remember our deal,” he adds.