Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“I won’t beg,” she says, looking up at me once more. Tears well in her eyes, and for a moment, I want to drop the act and pull her into my arms.
“But if you don’t ask, how can I ever grant your wish?” I smirk, trying to shift the energy in the room to something lighter. Something that will get Sasha to let her guard down, if only a little.
She bites her bottom lip, looking contemplative. We stare at each other for several long minutes, neither saying a word. In this scenario, the first one to speak loses, and that will never be me.
“Can I leave the room?” she finally says in a small, mousey voice.
I hate it.
I want her fight. Her strength. Not this broken version she’s showing me now. Or…is it all an act? A part of her plan. Guess we’ll see.
I give a shrug. “Very well. Tomorrow you can have some liberties to roam, but be forewarned…I won’t take kindly to duplicity. Be a good girl, and you can have freedom, but if you try to leave, you won’t like the consequences.”
She grits her teeth. Her jaw is tight with barely restrained anger. She wants to say something. To fight back. But she’s playing a game right now, and she plays it well…to a degree. I read people better than most, and despite how hard she tries, I can see the defiance shining in her eyes. I welcome her fire.
9
SASHA
Early morning sunlight streams in from the window next to me. Blinking my eyelids, I push away the sleep lingering in my body and work to rid myself of the morning fog.
As my vision clears, my surroundings focus, and confusion bleeds away to panic.
Where the hell am I?
My body springs up from the soft mattress I had been lying on as I work to get my bearings.
I shake my head back and forth, opening and closing my eyes several times, but it only takes a moment for my reality to set in.
Gideon’s house.
Scratch that.
Gideon’s fortress.
His evil lair, where he resides and probably tortures unwilling guests.
My body shudders at the thought, but I push the idea away. There’s no reason to believe he’d hurt me. Not when he maintains that he’s only trying to protect me.
Why should I think otherwise? Hell, he agreed to unlock the door. To give me freedom and free rein.
As if the house can hear my thoughts, something, somewhere in the room, begins to ring.
I look around and spot a phone or some sort of intercom beside the bed.
Narrowing my eyes, I inspect it further.
It’s not a regular phone. At least not one that can make outside calls.
Obviously. Pressing the button to answer it, I wait for whoever is calling to speak. Something tells me I know exactly who it will be.
“Good morning, firefly.” His husky voice washes over me, and my belly flips in response. “Breakfast will be served shortly.”
I open my mouth to respond but decide not to.
Screw him.
Screw him for invading my privacy by watching me from what I am now sure is the camera. How often is he watching me?
A groan leaves my mouth as I thrust my hands through my hair and pull.
“Not a morning person?”
Of all the stupid, arrogant—
My internal tirade is cut off. “Either way, you can get around and come downstairs. The door is unlocked. Food will be served in the dining room on the main level.”
My ears perk up at this news.
He didn’t lie. He kept his promise.
The door is unlocked. My plan is coming together.
I stretch my arms over my head, preparing myself for the task ahead. Get the lay of the land and make a plan.
Pushing off the soft, pillow-like mattress, I step down onto the plush area rug that sits beneath the massive bed. The creamy white comforter slips away from my body, and even though it’s summer, I feel the chill from the air conditioner hit the exposed skin not covered by my pajamas.
At least he had the decency to provide me with acceptable clothes. This set of buttery cotton button-down sleep shirt and shorts is to die for. I’d never admit it out loud, but in any other circumstance, I’d love to stay at a place like this as a guest. It reminds me of a fancy hotel. One I haven’t been able to afford—and likely won’t for some time.
With Gideon’s words filtering through my brain, the idea of freedom has my feet moving toward the door. My steps are slow and steady as I walk on my tiptoes. It takes me longer than it should, but I’m afraid if I move too fast, everything will come crashing down around me. That it will all end up being a dream, and freedom won’t be beyond the door.
When I get to the large and heavy wood frame, I tentatively reach my hand out and grab the knob. The cold of the brass sends a shiver up my spine. I swear my heart beats faster as I turn and pull. No resistance is met as it swings open.