Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Oh, God. I think I’m going to throw up. The look on his face tells me that I’m in for a whole world of shit right now.
“I’m sorry!” I blurt, but it’s too late. I thought he was an arse yesterday, but that’s nothing compared to this. He’s going to kill me. I know it. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and the next thing I know I’m flat on my back. He violently slams me to the floor, his large body pinning me to the ground. His hand wraps around my throat, pressing me mercilessly into the wooden floor boards. I gasp and panic, fighting against his hold. The more I struggle, the more his fingers threaten to tighten.
“You have no idea who you’re fucking with, little girl.” He inhales, the air hissing through his clenched teeth. Those icy eyes of his bore into me, and he leans in until his face is inches from my own. “If you did, you’d learn I’m not a person you want to provoke.”
I feel his fingers press into my throat a little more, and the weight of his body lays over me, nearly suffocating me. I gasp desperately as my lungs start to falter.
My pulse quickens, hammering through my veins as fear consumes me. He’s going to kill me, right here, right now. I’m going to die in his basement and no one will ever find me. My senses are heightened; I can hear each labored breath I manage to pull in echo through my ears, and all I can smell is him. The earthy scent of his sweat and cologne mixed with a touch of whiskey, it makes my stomach churn. All I can think is that I’d rather he shoot me than strangle me. I’d rather bleed out than have the life choked from me.
He moves until his lips are almost on my ear. “I am that guy your father warned you about.” he hisses, the heat from his breath touching my neck, making me tremble underneath him as sheer terror grips me. “I am that man that you pray you never run into in a dark alleyway on the wrong night. Do not mistake my pity for weakness. I will put a bullet in your skull without a second fucking thought. Do you hear me?”
I buck underneath him, trying to throw him off me as my basic desire to survive kicks in. His fingers constrict around my throat, and I claw at his arms, trying to pull him away. Of course it’s pointless. He must be at least three times my weight, but my survival instincts are determined to give it a bloody good shot. His eyes lock with mine, unyielding, unforgiving, and ice cold. As adrenaline floods my veins, my breathing grows shallow, my vision swims.
“Do you hear me?” he snarls in my face. I gasp and cough under the pressure of his fingers, managing a small nod. He tightens his hold again, and dark spots skitter across my eyes as a low hum rings through my ears. I’m about to lose consciousness. Suddenly, the pressure releases, and his weight is gone.
I roll onto my stomach, dragging oxygen into my lungs. I choke and cough violently. My eyes are streaming, as tears pour down my face. My throat is screaming in pain, and my chest hurts. I’ve never been so scared in my life. For a second there, I really thought he was going to kill me. It takes a certain type of person to choke the life out of someone. Shooting someone is one thing, but being that close, watching the panic in their eyes….I’m dealing with a monster. Lifting my head, I find him leant over his desk with his hands braced against the wood and his head hung. He looks so calm.
“Shit!” he shouts, making me jump.
I crawl away from him until my back is against the wall. I watch him warily, my chest heaving as he starts to pace in front of his desk.
He raises his head and moves toward me, stopping directly in front of me. “Come on.” He gestures for me to stand, and I do, but I keep my back to the wall the entire time.
He eyes me carefully, his gaze flicking down to my throat before he stalks away from me. “Come on I said,” he shouts. I do as he says, because honestly, the last thing I want to do is piss him off.
I push off the wall and gingerly follow him out of the office. All I can do is stare at him. He’s so large, his frame seeming to fill the hallway. His shoulders are rigid, his steps hard as he storms through the house. When his hand reaches to his pocket, I tense, fearing he’s changed his mind and is going to shoot me.