Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“It’s not fine.” He sighs. “It’s not fine at all. I’ve failed you.”
“No, Dad, you—”
“He has a wife, Camille.”
The room starts spinning and I reach for a chair to steady myself. “What?” I whisper, every drop of moisture in my mouth sucked up in a second.
“Darling, he’s married,” he reiterates solemnly, punching the words into the crevice forming in my heart. “The bastard has been lying to you all along.”
Stop saying that!
I fumble for the chair and drop to the seat, staring blankly across the room. The woman in the picture. Jake’s happy face. I hate that what my father is telling me fits into place. Jake evading the question when I asked about the photo. Of course he would. But married? It doesn’t seem possible.
“Camille?” Dad’s worried tone punches through my daze.
“How do you know this?” I ask, needing details to try and process the shock. “Where’s Jake now? He said he was coming to see you. To sort things out.”
“Well, he needn’t bother,” he scoffs, full of repulsion. “I’ll have him destroyed for hurting you, Camille.”
I shake my head, frustration and hurt gripping me. “Tell me how you know this for sure.”
“I had Grant follow him. He went to a woman’s house. His wife’s house. Grant just called to confirm it.”
I shoot up from my chair. “He’s there now?” I’m on my way to the door before I get my answer. “Where, Dad? Where is he?”
“Darling, I’m not having you go there alone.”
I stutter to a stop. “You’re lying,” I goad him, knowing he’ll prove it if it’s true.
“18A First Street.” He gives up the address easily. He’s not bluffing. My heart squeezes. “Wait for me, darling. I have something to see to and I’ll come and get you.”
“Okay,” I lie and hang up.
I’m not waiting for anyone. I grab my bag and swing the door open, forgetting that Heather is probably wondering what the fuck is going on.
“Cami!” she calls, sounding totally perplexed.
I skid to a stop halfway down the corridor, not because Heather is coming after me, but because someone is blocking my path.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Lucinda looks like a stern headmistress, arms folded over her chest, her foot tapping the carpet.
“He’s got you watching me?” I ask, somewhere between amusement and disbelief.
“I’m not enjoying it,” she sniffs, looking past me to Heather. I don’t have to turn around and find my friend to know that she’ll be looking a bit blank, wondering what the hell is going on. This is just brilliant.
“Am I to assume that your duty is to stop me from leaving?” I ask, my frustration converting into boiling rage.
“You’ve got it.” She winks, and I want to punch her face in.
“Why?” I ask. “The threats are redundant. My father told me it was all resolved.”
She blanks on me. It tells me too much and not enough. “Jake’s simply taking precautions.”
I nod, choosing not to argue or raise her suspicions. Precaution? Yeah, like guarding me while he pays a visit to his wife. I turn on my heels, wandering back to the apartment, Heather looking at me, all what the hell? But I just shake my head, my way of telling her not to ask. What would I say, anyway? She’s in there searching for wedding dresses and I’ve just found out my fiancé has a wife.
As I enter my apartment I look over my shoulder, seeing Lucinda hasn’t budged and doesn’t look like she’s going to. Bitch.
Shutting the door behind me, I shove my face straight into the wood, looking through the peek hole. She looks tiny. I pull away, thinking as I pivot, scanning my apartment for an escape. I run to the window and look out. I’m too high. “Damn,” I mutter, looking to my front door again. The fire escape is on the other side of the corridor. There’s no way past Lucinda.
“What’s going on?” Heather asks from behind, and I turn to face her, chewing my lip, fighting down the emotion that's threatening to break free and hamper my clear thinking. She takes a step back, studying me with caution. “I don’t like that face,” she declares. She shouldn’t like it. It’s my determined face.
I race to the kitchen and grab the only thing that can work, before dashing back to my lounge.
“Why the fuck are you holding a frying pan?” Heather asks as I run past her. “Cami, will you fucking speak!”
I quickly check the peek hole again and see Lucinda still keeping guard. I can’t believe this is what I’m resorting to! I turn to face my bemused friend. “I need you to do something for me.”
She’s looking at me like I might be mad. I could well be. “What?”
“That woman out there works with Jake.”
“Why is she here?”
“To stop me from going anywhere. Jake’s told her to watch me.”