Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Taking the brass doorknob in my hand, I twist and find it locked. I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, my minx is doing everything possible to stop the sale from going through. Little does she know she’s not going home with anyone but me. I jiggle the handle, and with a heavy exhale, I dig into my pocket for the key. The seconds it takes to unlock the door are too long. With more effort than necessary, I shove it open and immediately seek the sheen of her dark hair, the tight curve of her waist, the creamy pale skin I want to taste.
The noise from the crowd makes it hard to hear, so I step further into the room, scanning every corner and exit. The hair on the back of my neck rises when I realize she’s not here. She’s not in the fucking room.
Celia fucking escaped. Again. I clench my jaw, adding to the ache there, doing another scan to be sure she’s not hiding somewhere.
The room is empty. My anger toward her rises with every single second that passes. The moment I find her, I’m going to take it out on her pretty little ass. She won’t be able to walk for a fucking week, especially not once I have her tied to the bed.
Soo enters the room behind me, pausing mid-motion, taking in the empty room as well. “Did you already move her?”
Jaw clenched, I reply, “No, I fucking didn’t.”
There are no windows and only one other entrance across the space we mostly use for storage. Technically, it’s an office, but there’s only a desk, a small lamp, and boxes of alcohol brought in for the auction.
Soo marches across the room to the other door, throws it open, and pokes his head out. “I’d be pretty impressed if she got out of here on her own. To get past that crowd, and me, with no one seeing a thing. It’s very unlikely.”
I peer around the room again. “You think she had help? Or that someone helped themselves?”
He doesn’t answer, just slips into the hall, probably returning to his computer to bring up the video feeds throughout the warehouse. We keep the inside, and the outside, covered. There are very few blind spots in this place.
I head out the door nearest me, cutting through the throng of men. I don’t make it far before a small tan man grabs my arm.
With a jerk, I pull my arm back and turn, taking a step toward him. “Excuse me,” I growl, barely hanging onto my control.
The noise of these men is too much, the clinking of glasses, the smoke, all of it is more than I can take while I’m imagining someone else with their hands on what’s mine.
“Mr. Diavolo, you have something that belongs to me. I’d like to take her home now.”
I stare down at the man and recognize him as the one who bought Celia. The one who wants to clothe her in chains.
I narrow my gaze, questioning the man, “Are you sure she belongs to you?”
His bushy eyebrows pop up at such an accusation. “I don’t appreciate your game, sir. I wish to leave.”
I wave at the door to the warehouse. I’m losing my mind, losing it all because a beautiful fucking woman wove her way into my black soul. “Then go.”
The men around me continue on with their charades, laughing and tipping back bourbon. Drinking on my dollar. Anger flares, threatening to burn me to the ground if I don’t extinguish it. The problem is, I don’t care if I burn or if I burn the entire world down with me. Not if I can’t find her. Raising my voice above the crowd, I yell, “All of you, get the fuck out.”
Soo rushes to my side, whispering in my ear. “We’ll find her. Calm down. You’re going to blow everything up in our faces.”
“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down and don’t tell me what to fucking do. I’m in charge here.”
Soo turns to the crowd, stepping between me and the man that bought Celia. “Thank you all for coming. We are wrapping up early tonight. Please finish your drinks and head to your vehicles.”
“Not without my property,” Celia’s buyer growls.
I take a threatening step forward, ready to bash his little brains into the side of a crate, when Soo once again interferes. “Go back to my office. I’ll handle this.”
“You better because you don’t want to know what’s going to happen if I do.”
It takes everything within me to simply clench my fists and not batter my best friend for getting in my way. Sensing my behavior and rage, Soo adds, “If you want to go head-to-head, we can, but not until I clear this place out.”
Instead of answering, I spin on my heels and go back to his office. On the way, I throw a half-empty bottle of bourbon against a stack of crates. It shatters satisfyingly, barely curbing my rage, causing those around it to skitter away from the glass and me.