Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I don’t remind him I have a flight tomorrow, and an early one at that. I don’t think it’s what he wants or needs to hear right now. “I’d like that,” I say instead, because the truth is, I want to live that experience with him. And maybe then, maybe when whatever is going on is over, he’ll talk to me about it, though I have this sense it will be a long while before Ethan fully opens up to me.
There’s something dark and damaged beneath his surface, and I don’t think it’s merely a creation of his brother and ex-fiancée’s liaisons either. There’s more, and for reasons I don’t understand, I am able to see this in Ethan when I’m not sure others can, not fully. I think I’ve been allowed access to that window into his soul, but I’m not sure he ever intended for me to find that part of him.
Only it’s too late now. I have. And I’m glad for it.
Because I know he’s human now, and that doesn’t make him less attractive to me at all.
It draws me to him in ways I never thought possible.
“I have to go change into a fresh shirt, baby.” He releases me, and a few minutes later, dressed sharp and ready to kill, there is an edge to him when he kisses me goodbye. “I’ll try to be fast.”
“Don’t be fast for me. I have plenty of work to do. I need to deal with my inventory.” I don’t really, but I really want to remove any pressure he feels from me.
He departs, the scent of vanilla and musk still lingering in the air and on my skin, and I lean on the hotel room door, lost in my thoughts. I’m falling for him. I’m falling so hard, so fast, I think…I could love him. It’s crazy and a good formula for self-destruction. The hotel room phone rings, and I rush to answer it, thinking it might be Ethan. Is my phone dead? I glance around for it, not sure where it’s at, grasping the receiver and pressing it to my ear, to hear a rough, older man’s voice spit, “Leave the bitch in the room, and get here now.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Ihang up the phone without speaking a word. It rings again, but I don’t even think about picking it up. That was Ethan’s father calling. I’m sure of it. I don’t know how I know, but I know, and he apparently knows me as well. I’m “the bitch,” and the man has not even met me. I hug myself, blood swishing in my ears, the beat of my heart magnified tenfold, uncomfortably present in my chest. My first reaction to what feels like an attack and belittling of me as a person is a need to withdraw and leave. But after pacing the room several times, I’ve found logic. That caller wasn’t Ethan, but he was another example of just how shitty the people in his life are, and not the people he chooses to have in his life either—case in point, Harper. This is about the ones forced upon him—his family.
Ethan just told me to stop putting him on a pedestal. That man on the phone put me in the sewer. I wonder how many times he did that to Ethan himself. Between his brother, Anna, and his father, it’s no wonder Ethan’s a control freak, but it’s incredible that he has the gentleness in him and fairness I’ve seen as well. Nothing Ethan has said or done makes me feel as if he wants me to leave.
Come to Paris with me.
I want to go to Paris with him.
I’m not leaving.
Well, except to go to the store and get a morning after pill. Ethan and his wealthy self might not be freaking out about baby Ethan, but I am. I want kids, but I don’t want them because I trapped a man who does not have the good sense to not be trapped. Only he does. I know he does. He’s simply let his guard down with me, and I want to be worthy of that trust.
I grab my purse and head to the door, only to realize I don’t have a key to the room. I have no choice but to call Ethan. I pace again, and then decide on a text: I don’t have a key to your room. I have to go to the drugstore, so I’ll probably just pack up and go back to my room for now.
He calls almost immediately. “Don’t leave,” he says without prelude. “I’ll have the front desk bring you a key.” His voice softens. “Sorry, baby. I’ve got hell going on and wasn’t thinking.”
“I’m fine. I hate I had to bother you.”
“You’re absolutely not bothering me. If I didn’t have to go to this meeting, I wouldn’t.”