Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
“No.” The word sounds final. “My friend is the new owner. I was there to see him. Then I saw you.”
“And you decided to ruin my chance at winning the prize, and then took me for a ride to an undisclosed location without my consent?”
He nods. “Something like that. Wasn’t exactly planned.” He pauses, cocking his head toward the front of the house where an engine is rumbling, then stopping, then the muffled sound of a van door sliding and slamming shut. Then there are male voices and gruff laughter.
“Who’s here?” I ask, and his eyes return to mine, filled with some sort of fury, though at what I’m not sure. Then he runs his gaze over my body in a way that makes me tingle all over.
“Get inside. Get dressed.”
I smirk. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, Mister Billionaire?”
“No. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like that. That’s just for me.”
“Like what?” I ask as innocently as I can manage. I smooth my hand down the front of the oversized shirt covering me like a dress, letting it pull over my tits, nipples poking through. “Like this?”
I grin, taking hold of the hem and starting to lift, showing a little more thigh, wondering if I have the courage to give him a full show. I’m not wearing underwear, but it’s not like it’s anything he didn’t see last night, right?
When his face darkens, his silver eyes turning stormy under the morning sun, I hesitate.
He stomps my way, and I immediately drop the teasing, but it’s too late. He raises a hand, and for a second, I think he’s going to slap me, but deep down I know that wouldn’t happen. Deep down, I’ve already fallen for this man that kidnapped me, treated me like a whore and made me feel like a princess.
He extends his forefinger, pointing toward the house, his voice turning hard, his expression stony. “Inside. Do as I say. I’ll come find you later.”
I stare blankly, letting the shirt settle again.
“Are you mad?” I ask, his face twisted. I never asked for forgiveness from my real father, because he was never there for me in a way that deserved it.
But Hudson is.
His face softens. “I’m not mad. I’m protective.” He holds out his arms, and I stand, still a little unsure. “Come on,” he says, and I go to him, settling into his thick, solid chest.
It’s like coming home.
“You’re like a big ole protective Great Dane. I’m partial to Black Lab’s myself but I could be swayed…”
“Oh, is that so?” He half snarls, turning my face up to look at his serious eyes. “No one gets to see you dressed like this except me, you understand? This is for Daddy only.”
I nod.
And then I hear it.
Laughter.
Hudson turns, his body turning hard, anger boiling in his eyes.
A gathering of six men stand in the doorway to the kitchen, nodding and chuckling, rubbing their chins or their hands together.
Hudson growls.
He really growls. Bares his teeth.
But they aren’t so quick on the uptake because one of them whistles.
Not a good idea.
“Daddy.” I whisper before thinking and I see all six sets of eyes go round.
His eyes soften for a second before he levels them all with a step forward and a glare. “Which one of you motherfuckers is disrespecting my daughter?” Silence greets him, and if I thought his face darkened when I made him angry, that was nothing. “You dumb fucks laughing at me then? Huh?” He turns his hands up waiting. “All the sudden no one knows how to talk? Get the fuck out of here and spread the word, any of you or anyone on your crew set their eyes on my daughter again, I’ll twist your balls off and staple them to the tree out front. Now, get the fuck back outside, I’ll be there in a minute.”
He starts their way, and I don’t know who these people are, but I don’t want to see any balls stapled to a tree because, that’s gross. I’m also pretty sure that would lead to Hudson going to prison for a very long time.
And despite the fact that he kidnapped me last night, the thought of losing him has a panic wrapping around my throat, choking me.
My prince charming. My billionaire. That’s what I hoped for. Is that what I got?
Part of me wonders whether that’s all he is to me, a meal ticket, a way out. But if that’s true, then why do I feel like I want to run to him with all my fears and happy moments?
Why do I feel like I’d follow him anywhere, even if he was just one of those workers and not a man that could probably buy a private island and a jet to get us there with barely a blip on his financial radar.