Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
His mouth pops open, but before he can say anything, I open my door and slide into my car. “Have a good rest of your tour,” I say, closing my door and ending the conversation.
When Felix and I get home, since he’s passed out, I take him up to his room and tuck him into bed, not bothering to change him into his pajamas. If he wakes up, he’ll be up for hours.
Afterward, I go in search of David, hoping we can talk. I find him in his office, sitting at his desk and drinking whiskey.
“Hey,” I say, making my presence known. “Felix is in bed.”
The second his dark eyes lock with mine, I know something is wrong. “Come in here and close the door.”
I hesitate for a moment, but not wanting to wake Felix with whatever argument we’re about to have, I do as he says.
When I turn around, he’s standing close to me. He backs me up against his desk until my back hits the hard edge of the wood. “Have you seen social media?”
I shake my head.
“Everyone is linking you to that fucking song. The one where Blackwood admits to being fucking obsessed with you for years. They’re wondering who the woman is that Blackwood poured his broken heart out to. I was in a meeting today, and Vanessa asked how you knew Camden Blackwood because that photo is every-fucking-where!” he barks.
Vanessa is his assistant from Boston who moved here to New York. She’s always been civil with me, but I could sense a bit of hostility beneath her placating smile, like maybe she has a crush on my husband or doesn’t like me for whatever reason. Of course she would be the one to throw me under the bus.
“David, I—”
“Not a fucking word,” he booms, reaching down and unbuttoning my shorts. “Do you know how fucked up it is to find out from my assistant that another man wrote and sang a fucking love song about my wife?” He pushes my shorts down, confusing me.
“I didn’t know—”
“I said, not a word!” He forcefully cups my jaw, making me jump. “We haven’t even been back for a week, and you’re already making a fool out of yourself and me. The song, the photo of you all over him. And don’t get me started on the fact that you spent the night with him.”
My eyes go wide, and he chuckles humorlessly. “Yeah, your mom loves to post her entire life on social media since you showed her how to use it. Tonight, she posted about her daughter and grandson being home. And in the background, I saw you two.” He squeezes my face harder, and the pain in my mouth from his tight grip has me pulling my head back.
“David, I understand it all looks bad, but if you’d let me explain.”
“This is mine.” He grabs my breast and squeezes. “You are mine.” His hands fist the two sides of my shirt, and before I can stop him, he yanks it apart. Buttons fly everywhere, leaving me in only my bra and underwear.
I’m so focused on the fact that he just ripped my shirt, I’m not thinking about what he’s just exposed. Until his wild eyes land on my collarbone.
“Are you fucking serious right now? This is what you were doing last night after you were all over that fucking loser?”
“It… It doesn’t mean anything,” I lie because I’ve never seen David this mad before, and at this moment, I have no idea what he’s capable of.
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He whips his hand around, landing on my cheek. The feel of his palm connecting with my face stings like hell, and instinctually, I reach up to rub the area.
It takes me a second to comprehend what just happened, but once I do, I push against his chest as hard as I can. “Get the hell away from me!” I demand, refusing to let him put his hands on me in a violent manner.
David doesn’t listen, though, grabbing my wrists and twisting my arms behind my back. My back hits the edge of the desk again, this time harder, and I flinch at the bite of pain.
“What the fuck were you thinking, getting branded with the title of that fucking declaration of his obsession with you?” He shocks me when he pulls his head back and then spits in my face. “Less than a week here and you’re turning into a slut!” Who the hell is this man? Because this is not the guy I married. I shake my head, trying to get the spittle out of my eyes.
“You need to get that shit removed immediately.” He locks both my wrists with one hand and grips my face with his other, squeezing my cheeks and chin painfully.
“Fuck you!” I hiss. “I’m not removing shit.” I shouldn’t provoke him, but I’ve had enough.