Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Sebastian grumbles, “Don’t remind me. I don’t like the thought of you living there most of the time. But at least it’s not The Mill.”
Bel scoffs. “Well, for your information, we are currently alternating between The Mill and Drew’s house. So we can give his mom some privacy and have our own from time to time.”
“I'll continue this conversation with you later. We’re already running late.” There’s an edge of annoyance to his tone, and I know it’s only because of me. Sebastian could never be annoyed with Bel. Not even when she’s disobeying every one of his rules.
“Of course. I don’t want to keep you.” Bel smiles, and Sebastian turns to head for the door. I take a step forward, intending to follow but am stopped when Bel places a hand against my shoulder. I look down at her hand and then back up to her face. She’s smiling softly, but her eyes look...concerned...worried maybe?
“I know he’s my brother, but that doesn’t mean anything. Don’t let him push you around, E. Us women gotta stick together. Stand your ground, and if he hurts you, come to me. I’ve got your back.”
Bel is what I consider to be my one and only friend in this whirlwind of a life, and while I appreciate her so much and accept her desire to care for me, I won’t ever pit her and Sebastian against each other by dragging her into the mess I’ve gotten myself into with him.
“I know you do,” I whisper and give her a smile in return.
“Sebastian has a lot of bark but no bite. At least, not to those he cares about. Don’t let him scare you into submission.” She gives me a wink and then releases me, her hand falling back to her side.
I’m not sure what that means, but I don’t have the time to read into it. Not when Sebastian starts yelling my name.
“Coming!” I reply and scurry from the room like there is a fire behind me. I find him standing in the hall, wearing the same look of impatience from earlier.
“The time to socialize isn’t now. What part of we’re already running late did you not understand?” he asks, then starts walking again, forcing me to follow. I’m hot on his heels up until the moment he turns into his bedroom. It’s there I find myself pausing just outside the door. Why does this feel so personal and intimate? I’m sure I’m overthinking it, but I’ve never been inside his bedroom, at least not with him inside, and even then, it was only to clean the space. He’s not asking me to clean right now, and while I understand the interpretation, I’m not sure I like being invited into his room to do anything other than that.
Turning on his heels, he spots me stalled in the doorway. A look of pure impatience etches into his features. “For fuck’s sake, Ely. Get in the room. We don't have time for your uncertainty.”
Uncertainty? Am I so easily read? Actually, never mind. While it doesn’t feel right, and I can’t pinpoint in what way, he takes my hesitation and doubt and shoves them back at me, reminding me once more that he holds all the power.
“I highly suggest you get your ass into this room, or there will be consequences, and I can promise, you don’t want to see how creative I can be.”
The hard edge of his voice makes me shiver, and I don’t dare ignore the warning coating his words. Even though my body urges me to turn and run away, I force myself to do as he says and walk into the room. His usual woodsy sea-salt scent tickles my nostrils as it lingers in the air. Someone so bitter and hate-filled should not smell so delectable, never mind look as handsome as he does. It’s like false advertising.
Walking up to his king-sized bed, I drop the stack of clothes. What does he expect me to do now? I look down at the clothes and try to figure out where the hell he’s taking me based on the clothing. He can barely stand to be in the same room as me most days, so what’s brought on the sudden desire to take me somewhere? My instincts scream at me, telling me to think this through properly before agreeing. Unfortunately, my instincts don’t understand that I have no choice in the matter. There is no “agreement.”
The feel of his eyes on me drags my attention back to him.
“What?” I blurt out before I can think better of it.
“Do you plan to stand there all day staring at the clothes, or are you going to try them on? I need to see what you look like in them and determine if this is even worth the effort.”