Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
He responds by untying my ankles, then hauling me to my bruised and aching feet. I hate that I have to lean against him for a moment to catch my balance as my stiff muscles come back to life. There isn’t much time to recover before he shoves me toward the bathroom, where he unties my wrists immediately before leaving me alone. “Don’t take long,” he barks from the other side of the door. “I have a schedule to keep.”
I’m not sure exactly what that’s supposed to mean, but right now, I’m just glad to have a moment’s privacy. Even peeing in an actual toilet rather than a bucket is almost a joy. So is washing my hands and face. “I could use a toothbrush,” I call out. There’s a bottle of mouthwash on the sink, so I use that for now.
“Yeah, no kidding. Like I said, I’ll take care of that.” He opens the door before I tell him I’m ready, taking me by the arm and pulling me out.
“Where are you taking me now?” I try to twist my arm free of his grip, but it’s like trying to fight through quicksand. The more I struggle, the tighter he squeezes until my eyes start to water.
He leads me from the bedroom through the main room, which I don’t have time to look at before entering a smaller bedroom. He lets go of me, flinging me toward the bed. “Here. You’ll stay here while I go to work.”
“You didn’t have to break my arm.” I rub the place where he gripped me, soreness radiating through my arm.
“Trust me. If I wanted to break your arm, it would be broken.” Now I notice what is in his other hand: a key ring. “I’ll be locking the door behind me.”
Panic flutters in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Do you have to?”
“Do I have to lock you in this room to make sure you don’t find a way to attack me once I come back?” He speaks slowly, like he’s addressing a small child. “Yes, I do have to. What’s more than that, I want to. Some people don’t deserve freedom.”
I’d love to know exactly what the hell that’s supposed to mean. What does he think I did? There’s no time to ask—not that he would answer. All I can do is stand here, helpless, rubbing my sore arm while he closes and locks the door.
“When will you come back?” I finally think to ask, but I guess that doesn’t warrant an answer. All I get in return is silence.
My eyes dart around the room, searching for something I can use to pick the lock. The problem is, while there’s a small dresser and a table by the bed, there’s nothing in them. This is only the guest room, after all, but I was sort of hoping for something. Anything. A hairpin, a nail file. But even when I get on my knees and search under the bed, sweeping my hand back and forth, I come up empty.
No windows, which is something I’m going to have to get used to. There’s a small vent in the ceiling, but no way I’d be able to fit up there if I wanted to crawl through the ductwork.
What the hell am I thinking? Who do I think I am? I’m not some action movie hero. I’m not anybody. I don’t even know why he has me here. Not really. I only know he hates me. There’s not much I can do with that.
Finally, I sit down on the bed. At least it’s soft, and the sheets are clean. Maybe the best thing to do right now, since I’m clearly not going to eat this morning, is get some more sleep. I need to sleep if I’m going to heal up.
And obviously, Lucas Diavolo isn’t going to fall for a scheme I come up with off the top of my head. He’s sharper than that and more distrusting.
I’m sharp, too. And if there’s one thing my life trained me for, it’s to never trust anybody.
If he thinks it’s going to be easy to break me, I can’t wait to prove him wrong.
10
LUCAS
Lifting my mug, my lips are already touching the rim, I’m ready to take a sip when my office door suddenly flies open. I set my mug back down on my desk and frown at the intruder.
“Is it true?” Aspen basically yells at me.
This is definitely one of the moments I regret telling my secretary to let her through whenever she likes.
“Yes. Yes, it’s true. I am incredibly handsome.”
Aspen gives me an over-exaggerated eye roll. “I’m talking about Delilah. Is she really here?” I figured that’s what she was referring to, but I was hoping it would take a little longer for word to get to her. Turns out I was wrong.