Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Now it’s my turn to do some rescuing.
I tuck the money and credit card into my bra, and the knife into my shoe. It won’t be fun being clothed and wet, but if it helps me escape, it’s the least I can do.
The money, knife, and card secured, I look at the food on my tray, and my stomach clenches in hunger. There’s a delicious-looking lasagna, with steaming hot marinara and gooey, golden cheese, beside vibrant green buttered peas and two generous sides of fragrant garlic bread. My mouth waters, and I swallow hard. Beside the plate is another glass of wine, which I eagerly lift and sip. It tastes so damn good.
I eat first one bite of the pasta, just a small one. I don’t want to overdo it. But it’s so good, I take another, then another, until I’ve eaten everything on my plate and washed it down with the wine. There’s an elegant stemmed glass beside the plate with something decadent and chocolatey, topped with billows of whipped cream. My stomach is already full, but I can at least taste it. My taste buds explode with flavor when the food hits my tongue. Good God, whoever the cook is, he or she is excellent.
I smile to myself. They’re only making me comfortable here, that I know. Comfort can make someone complacent. But it firms my conviction: I will return to a life of normalcy. I will have luxury again. I will reunite with the men that I love—the only two people on this planet that mean anything to me at all—and I will pour myself into them. I know what truly matters now. And nothing will keep me from the next course of action.
The wine actually helps me get a little rest. I take a nap, and wake in a panic. Did I miss my window? But when I look out the window to the sea, and glance at the time on the clock beside my bed, I breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s only four o’clock in the morning.
We dock at seven. At six thirty, I’ll get off this ship. Many will still be asleep, I’m guessing. I hope.
I pace the small room, my nerves fraught, anticipation a beast clawing at my insides until I’m raw. I have so much pent-up energy, I feel as if I could fly my way off this ship right now, with no more weapons but my hands and will. But I force myself to stay calm. To wait.
I learned patience on the island as well. Patience for the hours upon hours when the rain beat on the shelter and we had to stay put. Patience for the arduous task of food preparation. I smile to myself. Patience with Cy. When he tied me up. When we reveled in each other and he spent hours keeping me at the cusp of pleasure, only to reward my patience by bringing me shattering into bliss that rocked me to my very core.
My belly clenches at the memory of him and I close my eyes, overcome with emotion at the memory of the hours and hours and days of intimacy we shared.
Oh, Cy. Where are you? Are you trying to find your way to me as I am to you? Will we be together again?
And it’s like I can almost hear him whispering his response to me.
“Courage, baby. Be strong. You’re brave, Harper.”
It’s what he would say to me if he were here, I know it. I know it.
And just when I feel as if my heart can’t take another minute of pregnant anticipation, I hear footsteps outside my door. I sit back on the bed, pretending to be just waking if it’s anyone other than Lila outside the door. A tentative knock sounds, and I get to my feet so quickly, I nearly trip. God, I’ve got to get a grip. I’ve got to center myself, stay focused.
Tears well in my eyes, my throat tight. Cy did that for me, too. The dominant one… he was my rock. I could let go of everything when I was with him.
I swallow my tears and march to the door, determined.
Ready.
Lila waits on the other side of the door with a tray. Her hands shake when I step back for her to enter.
“Your breakfast, ma’am,” she says softly. “We dock soon, so breakfast is served early.”
I close the door behind her and take the tray. “Thank you,” I say. She steps tentatively in front of the room and braces herself, as if she’s prepared for me to follow our plan and assault her right here, right now.
“Stop that,” I whisper to her. “You look like a lamb led to slaughter. I’m getting off this ship, and I’m going to use you to do that, but I won’t hurt you to do that.”