Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“She's none of your concern. You’ve never shown interest in what happens to any of the other girls I fuck, so don’t pretend to care now.” I toss the response over my shoulder. Maybel is my problem. Mine. All. Fucking. Mine. I start my walk back into the library, ignoring his mere existence.
“She’s different,” he yells once I reach the doors, and I pause for a millisecond before tugging them open and stomping inside.
Stalking back to where I was sitting earlier, I collapse into one of the chairs, directing my attention to Bel. The territorial rage and desire refuse to go away. I want to claim her right here, mark her skin, and tell everyone she belongs to me, but I can’t. I won’t. Her client is gone now, but I narrow my eyes since a new guy sits beside her, and worse yet, he’s wearing my fucking team colors.
I stand and march over, bracing my hands on the desk and leaning forward. His hand is on the back of her chair, his thumb brushing the collar of her shirt like he’s waiting to touch her bare skin. I don’t think. I simply react.
“Reb, I suggest, if you want to keep all your limbs for the next game, you take your hands off my girlfriend.”
A moment of stunned silence passes between the three of us. Then Reb, one of my defensemen, stands, his hands up in a form of surrender. “This is your girlfriend, man? I thought...well… We all know you don’t date. You barely ever even see the same girl twice. I didn’t know, I promise.” He’s panicking. I can tell by the way his eyes dart between Bel and me. The way beads of sweat form against his hairline. That’s the only thing keeping me from ripping his damn idiot head off.
“Get the fuck out of here.”
He skitters between the chairs, and I shift my gaze to Bel, who sits with her mouth hanging open. She looks as shocked as I feel.
“Did you just call me your girlfriend?” There’s something in her blue eyes, something softer than before. I don’t like it. It makes me think she’s starting to like me, fall for me, and if she does, I’ll have a bigger problem on my hands.
I give her a sneer. “Don’t read too much into it. I just want to make sure he knows not to touch what’s mine. Apparently, people are hard of hearing and dumber than I thought. I guess a label is needed, even if it’s fake.”
“Drew, are you okay? What’s going on?” Her concerned expression and whispering voice annoy me. I shake my head; anger and jealousy fuel me at the moment, and it’s not a good combination. In fact, it’s dangerous as hell, and if I take it out on Bel, it will only make it harder for me to get her to do what I want.
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself and the repercussions if you choose to let another man touch you. I’m not lying when I say I’ll kill someone. I’m past rational thinking. Don’t make me do it. You’re a good person, and I’d hate to put that on your conscience.” She opens her mouth to speak, but I don’t give her the chance. I give her one last long look and leave the library, heading back out into the cold. I need to put some distance between us.
Thankfully, Sebastian is gone, and I stalk in the direction of The Mill. As I’m walking, pushing my pace faster, feeling the burn in my muscles and using it to calm down, my phone buzzes to life in my pocket.
I jerk it out and squeeze my hand tight around the device, willing my strength to crush it into a million tiny pieces. It rings again, and I answer regretfully. “Hello?”
My father’s deep voice fills my ears. “The carnival is coming up. Is everything planned?”
I keep walking, letting my breath puff out into the air. “Yes, everything is ready. Including the office in the basement of The Mill where you can conduct your meeting. It’s stocked as requested. Everything is in order.”
“Good.” My father hums in approval. I hear some papers shuffling, and then he speaks again, “Tell me your thoughts about the young woman you met at the last party?”
Anxious knots tighten in my belly. I know what he wants to hear, but I can’t give it to him right now, not with so much anger simmering in my blood. “She’s just a girl.”
“Sure, yes, but an important connection, possibly.”
My patience and will to play nice snaps. “What do you want me to say, Dad? Is she my type? No. She’s some rich man's daughter looking for a knight in shining armor, and I’m not that guy. You know it, and I know it too. So please tell me what you want me to say to end this conversation, and I’ll say it. Better yet, fill in the blanks and pretend I said what you want me to say and go with that.”