Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 38202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Chaos erupts inside of me at his words. Half of me is lost in despair: it’s so damn terrifying, knowing that this man has such a hold over me. But the other half...oh, that other, more foolish, hopeless half is delirious. It can’t wait to have Mr. Rochester ordering me to do things.
Unspeakable things.
Shameful things.
Things that Mr. Rochester can only do—-
Clenching my fists, I force myself to meet Mr. Rochester’s gaze as I ask stiffly, “What now?”
Instead of answering right away, Mr. Rochester raises his uninjured hand to touch my cheek—-
I turn my face away sharply, avoiding his touch.
Mr. Rochester chuckles. “Stubborn to the very end, Ms. Reed?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter with a shrug and continue doggedly, “You still haven’t mentioned anything—-”
“If you’re asking about my plans,” Mr. Rochester interrupts calmly, “they’re relatively straightforward. We’ll start with having you move in with me tonight—-”
“Excuse me?” I choke out.
“You won’t have to worry about the logistics.”
“I won’t move in with you!”
“Yes. You will.”
“Or what?” I challenge bitterly. “You’ll blackmail me about the video?”
He blinks. “Of course not.” And his tone is even mildly reproving. “That has never been my style, Ms. Reed, and even if it were I’d have no need to do such a thing with you.” When I continue looking at him with suspicion, Mr. Rochester says with a sigh, “You have an extremely low opinion of me, don’t you, Ms. Reed?”
To my surprise, Mr. Rochester gently pulls away and I automatically take a few steps back to put much needed space between us. I watch him go around his desk and take out a sheet of paper from his drawer.
“For you, Ms. Reed.” Exasperation flashes in Mr. Rochester’s gaze when I glance at the document suspiciously. “Go on and read it. The contract’s primarily drawn out for your benefit.”
Yeah right, I think even as I slowly reach for the document.
It takes me only a few minutes to fully digest what the contract’s about, and when I’ve finally convinced myself I’m not reading anything wrong I turn to him, wary and bewildered. “You really had the video permanently deleted?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re actually going to pay me if it turns out otherwise and the video surfaces and goes public?” In fact “paying” me is quite the understatement; considering the amount stipulated in the contract, he’s practically setting me up for life—-
“Yes.”
Mr. Rochester’s mildly voiced reply only leaves me even more confused and suspicious, and I burst out, “Why?” Why would he get rid of the one thing that gives him enormous hold over me?
Mr. Rochester walks towards the door, saying over his shoulder, “First of all, extortion of that type has never been my style. Secondly—-” His hand rests on the doorknob and he turns to face me again. “I don’t need it.”
He...doesn’t?
“Because you want me, Ms. Reed. And as long as you want me—-” Mr. Rochester’s smile is filled with dangerous promise. “I know you’ll do whatever I want.” I watch Mr. Rochester turn the knob, murmuring politely, “Now, if it’s alright with you, I’ll need you to leave, Ms. Reed. I have a meeting in ten minutes.”
THE REST OF THE DAY proceeds like usual, and it’s so damn normal it’s exactly what’s driving me crazy. As I go through the motions of work, I can’t stop thinking about those few minutes I was alone with Mr. Rochester in his office.
Did it really happen?
I can’t help pinching myself at the thought, and a tiny part of me actually expects it won’t hurt—-
But it does.
“Ouch.” I let go quickly and grimace at the swollen bit of flesh on my arm. Damn Mr. Rochester. This is his fault, too.
Swinging away from the windows, I turn back to my laptop and resume banging hard on the keyboard, imagining all the while I’m poking Mr. Rochester’s body with a fork.
Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.
But deep inside, I know I’m not really furious with him. My anger is completely self-directed, and every time my masochistic mind replays memories of this morning’s shameful confrontation—-
I just hate myself more and more.
He deleted the video, permanently!
You have the contract in your bag to prove it!
So why are you still wasting your time obsessing over him?
A great question, I think darkly, but one I unfortunately have no idea how to answer. Everything’s Mr. Rochester has so far done is nothing like I’ve expected—-
He has a video of me that he can use as his leverage, but he ends up getting rid of it.
He could have sued me for his injuries but he chooses to overlook it.
He has the experience – the skills, for heaven’s sake, if tempting women could be considered one – to seduce me into making me believe all sorts of things, but instead he gives me the agonizing truth.
What kind of man does that?