Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
“Now you’ll get into trouble, and for what?” She sprayed an organic cleaning solution on the tile. “My ass has been pinched before. It always ends the same. With a shiner for the guy who did it and swollen knuckles for me.”
The mere thought of men thinking they could touch this woman without consent made me want to do heinous things. I needed names, addresses, and schedules. And knives.
Plenty of fucking knives.
“I won’t get in trouble.”
From the drawing room, Senior lost his shit at volcanic decibels. “How could you be so stupid?”
I jerked a thumb back in their direction as Jasper and Senior reprimanded Junior, proving my point.
“I’ll add a few million to sweeten the deal when I buy the company.” A grim, lopsided smile slashed my face. “That’s always been the plan. I lowballed them hard.”
“You treated me as an object. As a possession.” She paused to stab me with her glare. “I may work for you, but that’s where it ends.”
“Au contraire. It’s only the beginning. I have so many other plans for you.”
Her eyes tightened at the corners. “Zachary.”
“Farrow.”
She hurled the heavy, drenched rag into the sink. Blood splattered over the plates and mugs. “You got something to say to me?”
“Sure.”
I stalked to her, stopping just a foot shy.
Progress.
The column of her throat bobbed at the proximity.
I palmed my knife, fingered the bloodstained collar of her maid outfit with the tip of the blade, and flashed her a smirk. “You look good in red.”
With that, I left, making my way to the master bedroom.
Her crumpled Chuck Taylors squeaked against the marble floor. They stomped the steps behind me, loud and unapologetic.
Outside of parties and formal dinners, I didn’t even allow shoes in the manor. She’d ignored the rule from Day One.
We passed Junior without a word. He slumped against the post on the first step, getting stitched up by Ollie’s family doctor while his father and Jasper fussed over him.
Across the hall, Ollie, Rom, and Delhi laughed, glasses clinking, utensils hitting porcelain plates.
I jerked the golden handle to my bedroom open and slipped inside. It clicked shut behind Fae, who twisted the lock.
She followed me into the bathroom, where I flipped my faucet to its coldest setting and stuck my hands under. The water turned pink beneath the blood.
Our gazes tangled through the mirror. If she was freaked out about me slicing a man for almost cupping her ass, she certainly didn’t show it.
After I finished cleaning up, I waltzed into my closet and began unbuttoning my shirt. Farrow rested a hip on the doorframe, her uniform and bare legs still caked with blood.
Slowly, I rolled my shoulders down, aware of her eyes pinned on the fabric. It fell to the rug without a sound.
I stood shirtless before her like a statue in a private viewing, allowing her a few more moments to soak in my six-pack, the contours of my sculpted arms, and the deep V that ran into my slacks.
Her eyes widened like saucers. Heat pooled beneath my navel, all my blood rushing to my cock.
I knew that look. Wore it myself whenever I hunted for a deal.
She was hungry.
For me.
You have no idea, Little Octopus.
I’ll give you seconds and thirds. Desserts and snacks in between.
You are going to be so full of me, your pussy will be the shape of my dick.
The thought was as startling as the idea. I couldn’t even bring myself to touch her right now.
I broke the ice, snapping my fingers in the direction of her face. “My eyes are up here, by the way.”
We stood about ten feet away from each other. But unlike any other time, with anyone else, each foot felt like an entire continent.
“There’s nothing behind them.” She folded her arms. “Your torso is a much better view.”
I picked a crisp white button-down, slid the empty velvet hanger back on the rack, and padded to her, still shirtless. “You shouldn’t let anyone talk to you like Brett did. Or Oliver, for that matter.”
Her smile dropped. “They get away with it because they know they can. I’m not Dallas Townsend. I have no one to protect me.”
I slipped the fabric over my arms and took another step toward her. “Yes, you do.”
Then another, fastening a button with each stride.
“And who would that be?”
“Me.”
Silence clawed the air.
Then, I heard it.
Tinkling laughter bubbled from her throat like wedding bells carried by the wind.
It trickled straight into my stomach and burst in every direction from there. Only, it didn’t feel like butterflies.
It felt like bats from hell.
“What was that?” I demanded.
Her smile vanished—and so did the strange murmur inside my chest when she’d made that sound. It was not unpleasant. And did not feel like cardiac arrest.
I might have wanted it back.
She blinked. “What was what?”
“That sound.”
Her brows shot up to the edge of her hairline. “I… laughed?”