Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
"I didn't authorize that, Troy."
"Do I look like I asked for permission?" I arch a brow at him. "The two of you signed the contract without our consent. Now, you have it. But we aren't playing by your rules, Father. You're playing by ours. The princess is mine. But if either of you try to interfere, you'll live long enough to regret it."
"Are you threatening me?" he growls, jolting forward in his chair with far more strength than he pretends to have.
"No. I'm promising you," I snarl. "Try to come between me and her, and I will destroy this fucking kingdom and the Rosewood kingdom, brick by brick, if that's what it takes. She's mine."
He stares at me for a long moment, our eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, and then, surprisingly, he throws his head back and laughs, cackling as if I just handed him the keys to my soul.
"Congratulations, boy," he says, his fingers drumming against the top of his desk. "Now, you've found something worth fighting for. You'll have no interference from me. I'll see to it that Rosewood leaves the girl alone, too."
I stare at him, caught off guard. Is he actually giving me what I want for once in his miserable life?
"Aurora would be proud," he says gruffly, the first time he's spoken my mother's name in twenty years.
"No," I mutter, shaking my head. "If she could see us now, she'd be fucking horrified, father. You know she would. This is the first thing—the only thing—I've done right since she died." I turn and stride for the door.
As my hand hits the knob, his voice floats back to me, soft and somber.
"Me too, son. Me too."
Chapter Eleven
Thalia
Ispend most of the day after Troy leaves just wandering around the cabin, trying to keep myself occupied. He brought me a stack of books on an earlier trip into Stonehaven, but none of them hold my attention today.
My mind keeps drifting back to the man he saw in the woods. Did my father send him?
I pace back and forth to the windows, peering out, searching for the stranger. Every little sound has me jumping out of my skin. But if the man is still out there, I never see him. He never approaches the cabin.
Eventually, I force myself to stop looking and find something else to do. I scrub the floors from one end of the cabin to the other. Troy rarely lets me clean. He usually does it himself, telling me that I'm not responsible for cleaning up. In fact, he rarely lets me lift a finger around here. He pampers me, spoiling me exactly as if I were back at Rosewood.
Only, I don't mind it out here. I love that he wants to take care of me. It's sweet. I don't think he's ever been that way with anyone—so soft and gentle. It's a side of him reserved solely for me.
Am I going to lose it? If that's my father's man…is my happily-ever-after going to come crashing down soon?
I hope not.
I've barely finished the floors when the phone Troy bought me rings. I rush across the room to grab it.
"Hello?"
"Angel," he breathes.
"Troy." I close my eyes, letting his commanding voice wash over me.
"You sound out of breath."
"I was scrubbing the floors."
"Thalia."
"I don't mind, Troy. I needed something to do."
"You have something to do," he growls. "You read or nap or knit or watch the squirrels or anything you want other than scrub floors, angel. That's not your job."
I smile despite myself. He sounds so cranky. "I miss you. Will you be home soon?"
He sighs. "It's taking longer here than I expected. I may be later than I thought."
"Oh." I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything is just fine, angel. There's nothing to worry about. I promise."
"Okay," I whisper.
"When I get there, I'm going to take what belongs to me whether you're awake or not, sweet Thalia," he growls, making my core clench. "I want you wet and naked, waiting for me."
"Troy," I moan, a wave of heat rolling through me.
"I mean it, angel. Be naked and ready for me."
I'm always naked and ready for him when he gets home from Stonehaven. Our game is twisted, but it's my favorite. I pretend I'm asleep, fighting not to move or make a sound while he touches and licks and fucks. Eventually, I crack, coming alive for him. Unable to pretend any longer. Sometimes, I manage to hold out all the way until I come. Most of the time, he breaks me long before then.
Maybe the things we do are wrong, but I don't care. With him, I've never felt more right or whole. If it's wrong to enjoy the dark, wicked things he does and says to me, then I'll be wrong. If I'm damned for loving him the way I do, then I'll be damned. I don't care.