Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
His smile contains the tiniest bit of warmth but it feels like standing in the hot July sun. “Communication has never been our strong suit—any of our strong suits. There are going to be hiccups.”
“There are going to be hiccups along the way to where?” Part of me wants to just let it go, but I can’t. I just can’t. “Hiccups for the next thirteen days while you punish me for how things fell apart before? Or while you do whatever this is and I have to pick one of you?” The thought of having to make that decision has an invisible strap tightening around my chest. I don’t know if I can do it, Sienna’s algorithm in play or not. If it was such an easy choice, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.
No matter which way I go, I’m going to walk out of this apartment bleeding from a soul wound I might never recover from. No matter what decision I make, I’m going to hurt a man I care about very deeply.
“Trust me, princess.” He says it like he has everything figured out, like he has absolutely no doubt we’ll reach the destination he can already see in his head. Beast gives the blanket another small tug. “Do you want to use your safe word?”
There’s only one answer and everyone within hearing range knows it. I made this choice and I will honor it. A small part of me even wants to. This situation isn’t playing out at all like I expect, but I can’t deny that I feel like a moth to their flame. But no matter what happens, I will not be burned up. “No.” I lift my chin. “But if either of you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’m out. You want me here and you want me honest, but you don’t get to play verbal punching bag with me in response to that honesty.” Drawing this line in the sand is a risk, but I can’t stop myself.
“Agreed.” Beast nods and rises, tugging me along with him.
Beast leads me to the table and stands behind me, his hands on my shoulders. “Gaeton.” His voice has lost its warmth and is all snap, which the other man responds to. Gaeton looks over my shoulder at Beast, once again completely ignoring me. Beast squeezes my shoulders, but I can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a warning or a reassurance. “I brought you something.”
Now he finally focuses on me, but there’s absolutely nothing in those dark eyes. He looks at me like I’m a stranger, and not necessarily a welcome one.
Gods, that hurts.
Only Beast at my back prevents me from retreating.
Gaeton leans back in his chair, the very picture of an arrogant prince. “Doesn’t look like breakfast.”
“Doesn’t it? Take a closer look.” The barest movement behind me and then Beast grabs my hips and lifts me onto the table. I can’t help a little squeak of surprise, but I stifle it immediately. I might enjoy submitting, but I’m not going to give either of them the satisfaction of reacting when they haul me around. With a firm grip, he guides my feet to the arms of Gaeton’s chair. It’s built wide to accommodate his body, so it leaves me spread almost uncomfortably. If not for the blanket, I’d be entirely exposed.
I don’t expect they’ll let me keep covered for long.
Gaeton doesn’t move. “Hard to see this present of yours while she’s all wrapped up.”
A dark laugh from Beast. “A present isn’t a present unless you have to unwrap it. There are rules, my friend.”
“I’m not your friend.” But he says it in a contemplative sort of way, as if he’s no longer sure it’s true. Gaeton brackets my ankles with his big hands and finally, finally, meets my gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“Gaeton.” Beast injects a bit of warning into his tone, but doesn’t shift from the spot against the wall at Gaeton’s shoulder.
Gaeton ignores him and gives my ankles a small squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I was a dick.”
“Yes, you were a dick.” My heart takes a dizzying leap and I press my hands to my chest as if I can keep it from its fatalistic freefall. It takes me two tries to speak. “You’ve always been arrogant. This morning is the first time you’ve ever been cruel.”
“You sure it’s the first time I’ve ever been cruel?” He skates his hands over my calves and knees, stopping a bare inch below where the blanket covers me. “Sure as fuck seems we don’t know each other nearly as well as we thought.”
I’m afraid to ask what he means, afraid to dig deeper into the same realization I had last night. We dated for nearly two years and I might know that he likes red, that his favorite food is takeout from the hole-in-the-wall restaurant around the corner from his apartment, that he really enjoys spending his evenings cuddling and watching soapy dramas on the TV, but those are all surface level things. There is so much he kept from me. So much I kept from him. Something like panic takes hold, and I try to shrug out of the blanket. It’s a distraction, and not even a good one.