Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
I stare at the waterfall, watching as the water cascades over the edge, rushing into nothingness without realizing it.
Dragging my gaze from the waterfall, I turn, and my eyes collide with Julian’s wild one. His icy blue eyes are mesmerizing, like deep pits that lead to the ocean floor.
“What happened? How did I fall?” I ask, desperately wanting to know what got me here.
Julian’s jaw tightens, the angles becoming harsh, his features darkening.
“We will talk about what happened when you’re better, and definitely not here.” The tight-lipped smile he gives me doesn’t reach his eyes, and the sharp edge to his voice is a warning.
This conversation is done for now… but not forever.
“Okay,” I whisper, and just then, the throbbing in my head intensifies, and I know he’s right. Right now, isn’t the time to dive into what happened.
The doctor releases me from the hospital the next day. I get the feeling the nurses are all glad we are gone, which is the way Julian is. They must have been pretty freaked out.
Julian treats me like I’m made of glass. He practically carries me to the car, and then from the car and into the house when we get back to the mansion—our home.
Home. It’s still weird to think about this place as my home, but the truth is, it feels more and more like that. When I was living with my father, it never felt like a home, more like a jail cell, and though things with Julian weren’t easy at first, things are better here than they ever were with my father.
Julian carries me all the way up the stairs, and I hold onto him, laying my head on his shoulder. When we make it to the top of the staircase, I almost expect to have a flashback, maybe a few memories resurfacing, but nothing happens. The staircase looks as it always has, and I still remember nothing.
We make it to the bedroom, and I’m surprised to find Marie standing inside the room. She greets us with a warm smile, and I’m even more surprised when I take in the rest of the room.
One of the dressers has been moved and replaced with a bookshelf, which is filled with all my favorite books. The bed is set up with cushions and a backrest to sit comfortably with my foot raised. The nightstand has been replaced with a table that looks close to the hospital side table. It’s retractable and pulls out and over the bed like a tv tray.
“You’ll be more comfortable like this,” Julian explains as I take everything in. “Marie will stay with you when I’m busy. You can’t be alone right now with the concussion.”
“Oh… okay.” I can’t help but smile.
I don’t have to be alone anymore.
Julian lowers me gently onto the mattress, and I sink into the soft cushion with a sigh. There is nothing like being in your own bed. My head is still hurting, and my ribs are killing me, but I try to focus on the good.
“I also got you this,” Julian’s voice softens, and he pulls something out from under the table and hands it to me. I stare down at the silver iPad in my hands. “It’s not connected to the internet, but I preloaded it with movies, music, books, and apps I thought you might like. This should keep you busy while you recover.”
“Thank you,” I whisper without taking my eyes off the iPad. I’m more than thankful that Julian set all of this up. That he got me this gift and is having Marie stay with me.
But I can’t help but shake the feeling I’m having right now. There’s this little voice in the back of my mind nagging, telling me that he’s doing this not because he wants too but because he feels guilty. I know he feels responsible for what happened, but I can’t seem to let go of the fact that maybe it’s more than that?
Did he actually hurt me?
The question lingers long after he leaves the room.
Because if he did, I don’t know what I would do.
32
Julian
Three Weeks Later
Sitting at my desk, I watch the amber-colored liquid swirl around inside the crystal glass. Zeke Black sits across from me. Xander Rossi says he’s the best at what he does, and that’s exactly what I need. Someone good enough to find Romero without spooking him. I want him brought to me alive.
“Xander tells me you’re good at what you do.” I look up at him over the rim of my glass.
“Good is an understatement, but I don’t want to be boastful.” His features are stoic.
Zeke is pretty young to have the rap sheet he has, but I guess I’m pretty young myself to be the head of this family. From the little background Xander shared with me, he grew up being tossed from foster home to foster home. He’s worked as a hitman for years and is damn good at what he does.