Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Finally, a tiny hint of freedom. I don’t even care where he’s sending me, but at least it’s not in a cell with four blank walls and no room to dance in, let alone zero means to play music to dance to.
My lips curve up the smallest bit as the car slides between the giant beams, pulling to a stop a few feet from the glass door I stand behind. I watch as a gorgeous woman with long dark hair and bright red lips steps out, her skirt tight across her thick thighs and heels so high her feet are damn near pointed.
My eyes fall to the black flats at my feet, and I wince as I curl my toes within them.
Clearing my throat, I stand tall, waiting for the elderly man to open the door so I can step out and join this woman for whatever the hell Enzo planned for me…but as I stare at her, she faces forward, her smile spreading, her tongue flicking out to run along her upper lip.
I scoff, swallowing it, and I swear the man at my side bounces with silent laughter. My eyes slide his way, to find him smiling ahead, and mine breaks free.
Tired of waiting, I go to pull the door open, but my hand freezes on the giant, swirling handle when the red-lipped woman opens her arms as if in greeting.
The person she reaches for appears a moment later.
Enzo.
He steps from the small conclave, having exited through a door I can’t see from here, and he doesn’t stop until he’s right before her.
She says something that makes him smile, and it’s an unexpected punch to the gut. The man will hardly look at me. He ignored me for months before I left, locked me in a room since the day I was dragged back, and here he is. Smiling and chatting freely with the gorgeous woman that is closer to his age than I am.
His hand slides along her lower back and he stares into her eyes as he responds to whatever she said.
She winks, climbs back into the car, and a hollowness I don’t understand blooms behind my ribs as Enzo slides in beside her.
“Come, dear.” My head whips around to find the woman from this morning behind me.
Once again, her face is blank, giving nothing away. I frown but when she only turns on her heel, heading down the hall, I sigh.
With one last glance, I look out the glass doors, but this time, the car is gone. A million questions run through my mind, the ones screaming the loudest being who the fuck is she and where the fuck did they go? but I give nothing away as I face the old woman once more.
I hold my head high as I follow behind, knowing without a word I’m being taken back to my room. I step inside without turning back, and even when the door closes behind me, a lock clicking softly after, I keep my spine straight.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m sitting in the plush chair in front of the north side window overlooking the front of the property, and I don’t move.
Sleep evades me.
And Enzo doesn’t return.
Chapter
Four
Boston
As I step from the shower, I find my reflection in the mirror, sighing at the dark circles forming beneath my eyes. Across the room, the balcony mocks me, the large bay doors latched from the outside to keep me from enjoying the summer sun while it lasts.
The balcony may be completely bare, but I would happily sit on my ass if it meant I could at least listen to the sounds the outside world offers. Anything over the suffocating silence of this room.
Summer is almost over and I have no idea what comes next for me. I still have two years left of the scholar program at Greyson Elite, not that I really care about that. All I ever wanted to do was dance anyway and the only books I like are the ones with couples on the covers.
Another sigh leaves me, and I pull the comb from the drawer, slowly brushing through my hair from root to tip. Rather than blow-drying it, I part it down the middle, slicking it straight down to my scalp. Looking through the cabinets and drawers, I search for some hair glue or wax, but of course those items weren’t thought of when this room was prepared for me. I find nothing, so I squirt a small amount of conditioner into my palm and drag it along my part. It’s not perfect and it won’t hold with the slightest bit of wind, but the baby hairs are hidden and it’s not like I’m going anywhere anyway.
The knock comes at the same time as it did yesterday, but I don’t bother moving toward the door. The woman can come to me, and if she wants me to be polite, she can at least offer me her name. If she doesn’t, I’m going to start calling her Grandma. Bet that will do the trick.