Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“Exactly!” He smiles. “So we’ll also need to go down to Colombia and get you registered for your next semester. What do you say?”
“I don’t understand,” I tell him honestly.
“And here I thought you were some kind of genius.” He laughs. “I saw your transcripts, Kat. You’re very smart. It’s only right that you’re able to finish your degree.”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask skeptically. “What’s in it for you?”
“Nothing’s in it for me,” he says with a smile. “I want you to be happy and fulfilled. You deserve that.”
“I don’t believe you. My whole life, everything has been carefully planned and orchestrated. No one has ever done anything just for my benefit. So you must have an angle. Be honest with me.”
He looks at me with apprehension, clearly offended by my words. He puts his fork and knife down and fixes me with a kind stare. “Do you want to go back to school, Kat?” he asks simply.
I nod, but I don’t want to agree to something when I don’t know the terms.
“More than anything,” I say. “But don’t think that letting me go back to school is going to make me yours.”
That has to be it, right? He must think that if he lets me go back to school, I’ll fall into his arms and be so grateful that I give myself over to him. In a way, it’s no different than my father marrying me off to Niko.
A small smile plays on his lips, and he slowly cuts up a piece of his meat and takes a bite. He chews and seems to consider my words.
“I don’t think that letting you go to school is going to make you mine,” he says finally.
I let out a breath, grateful that there really are no strings, but then he keeps talking.
“You’re already mine,” he says frankly, and I scoff.
He smirks at me and moves closer. His face is just inches from mine, so close I can feel his breath on my face.
“I can prove it,” he says cockily.
I’m sure he’s going to lean in for a kiss, but instead, he stands up, grabs his plate, and walks out of the dining room, leaving me confused. That’s the second time he’s left me high and dry, and I don’t like it one bit.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ivan
Kat doesn’t trust me yet, which I suppose is understandable. She’s never been given any freedom in her life, and every good thing has come with strings attached. It’s up to me to show her I have no strings attached to my offer. I just want her to be happy. I’ve claimed her as my own, and now I have to show her what that truly means.
It means she can have whatever she wants, whenever she wants it. She won’t believe me until I show her, though. Last night at dinner, she was sure I couldn’t be offering her something good without wanting something in return. Tonight, I have to prove to her that I only want what’s best for her.
I knock on her door late in the afternoon and see that she’s been lounging in bed, watching TV. I smile to myself. She seems like a kid in a candy store with all this free time. Eventually, she’ll need to feel like she can leave the apartment and use her time for herself. We can explore Manhattan together.
“What do you want?” she asks warily, and I chuckle at her apprehension.
I walk into the room, pleased to see she’s made it her own. She’s getting more comfortable here, which is a good sign. Soon enough, she’ll want to move all of her things into my room. One thing at a time, though.
I walk into her closet and take in the vast array of clothing that’s hanging up. My staff did an excellent job. In the back of the closet is a section full of pretty dresses. I walk straight back to them and pick one. It’s black and slinky and will hug her irresistible curves perfectly. I bring it back out to her and hold it out for her inspection.
Her eyes go wide as she takes it in.
“What do you think of this dress?” I ask her.
She eyes it with a gleam in her eye, and I can tell the idea of putting it on excites her.
“It’s pretty,” she says simply, masking her true feelings.
“Well, I think you should wear it tonight,” I tell her.
“What’s tonight?” she asks curiously, taking the dress from me and holding it against her body.
“I’m taking you on a proper date.” I smile. “So get dressed up and meet me downstairs at six.”
I turn on my heel and walk out, leaving her to her own devices.
At six o’clock on the dot, I’m standing in the entryway when I hear her descend the stairs. In addition to the dress, she’s put on a pair of strappy heels that make her legs look a million miles long. She is sex on a stick, no longer looking like the innocent, virginal bride but a vixen ready to pounce.