Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
I purse my lips. “I’m not going to tell you.”
His eyes flash as he drawls, “You’re starting to break my heart a little bit, Bubblegum.”
At his low words, all the air gets sucked out of my lungs.
Not to mention, at his actions too.
At the fact that he puts a hand on his chest and rubs the spot just above his heart, like I’m really breaking it.
God, who is this guy?
I’ve never ever met anyone like him before.
I didn’t even know guys like him existed.
I force myself to breathe though and ask, “What are you doing out here, in the woods?”
My question doesn’t faze him in the least. In fact, he’s all ready with an answer. “Getting interrogated by some bubblegum.”
My nostrils flare and his lips twitch at my displeasure.
“Why do you have that string?” I look at it, lying on the ground just by his side. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Magic.”
“Is it something bad?”
“Define bad.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Are you afraid?”
“No.”
I don’t sound very convincing, even to myself. And he smiles. As if he likes it. As if the prospect of scaring me sounds fun to him. Then, “Because if you were, I’d tell you then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“But someone else… does?”
“Not you.” He shakes his head slowly. “That’s all you need to know.”
“I don’t think —”
“Besides, it’s none of your business,” he cuts me off, raising an arrogant eyebrow. “Is it?”
“Actually it is my business.”
“And how is that?”
“Because these are my woods.”
“Your woods.”
“Yes, I live here.”
Finally, freaking finally, all amusement and arrogance get wiped off his face.
I’m so happy that it’s a struggle to not smile and maintain my own arrogant expression but I do it.
Anything to turn the tables on him.
Anything.
“You live here.”
I nod. “Yup.”
“Here,” he goes, his eyes going up and down my body again. “At the manor?”
My heart jerks in my chest.
For a variety of reasons.
First, this is a very specific question. And the answer to it is no.
I do not live at the manor.
I live in the carriage house, right across from the manor, also known as the servant’s quarters. Truth be told, I haven’t even been inside the manor yet.
And second, because I’ve decided to lie and tell him yes anyway.
I do realize that lying is bad.
My parents are going to be very unhappy about it, if they ever find out.
But I have thought about it and lying is the only logical next step.
If I tell him that this is my house and my property, he’s going to be intimidated. He’s going to be afraid of me and that should take care of his stupid smug expression. Plus it might also stop him from carrying out his nefarious — also known as wicked, sinful, appalling, odious and so on — intentions.
So it’s a win-win really.
It’s lying for a good cause.
Breathing a lungful of air, I reply, “Yes.”
His eyes narrow as he studies me for a second or two. It’s okay. It’s understandable.
He’s likely stunned by my revelation.
And the fact that he’s messing with the wrong girl.
A powerful girl.
“So you’re one of the Davidsons then,” he says.
“I am.”
I am not.
I’m one of the Adlers — Echo Adler — who work for the Davidsons. My mom’s one of the new cooks and my dad is the new head groundskeeper. But he’s not going to know that. He’s…
Wait a second.
What if he does know?
I mean, he’s here, isn’t he? On the Davidsons’ estate, and what if he knows all the Davidsons? What if he’s friends with them, with one of their sons? I hear they have two, both older than me and both living out of town, one in college and the other in a boarding school.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
“Have you… do you know th-them?” I ask, or more like squeak really.
He’s silent for a second or two and I think I see a smile, or rather a smirk, forming on his mouth but it vanishes so quickly that I definitely think I imagined it.
Shrugging, he says, “Heard of them.” Then with his eyes sweeping across my face, “Didn’t know they had a cute little Bubblegum living among them though.”
Okay, thank God.
Thank. God.
I’m so relieved that I’m not even going to take offense at him calling me by that ridiculous — belly-whooshing — name. But…
Did he just say ‘cute little Bubblegum?’
He called me… cute.
“Now you know. So…” I clear my throat, ignoring everything once again. “Whatever it is that you’re trying to do, don’t.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
His eyes flick back and forth between mine. “Or what?”
I frown. “Or I…”
“You,” he prods.
I breathe out sharply. “Or I call security on you.”
Strangely, my threat makes his mouth stretch up into a smile.
And yet again, air gets knocked out of my lungs for a second or two. Because this smile of his is really just a smile — small, lopsided and… fond even — and not a smirk.