Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Babies?”
Robert and Evan both used condoms. They weren’t looking to impregnate me when we were together. What’s Hunter talking about?
“Hunter, this isn’t the time.” Robert’s hand on Hunter’s shoulder sets him off. He shrugs him off violently and turns on his brother.
“Why are you doing this? Why are you denying us our birthright? This is about so much more. We’re the future of our line. It’s our duty to do what we need to do to keep our kind alive into generations that we can’t even imagine existing.”
So there it is. This isn’t about being fated to be together for love. It’s not a match made in heaven, my other stupid notion of a destiny of four hearts. It isn’t about love and happiness like my mom’s dreams and my stupid, childish fantasies. This whole thing is just about procreation. I’m just a vessel for their offspring—a surrogate who’ll give birth to the next generation of bear-humans. I feel sick to my stomach; used in a way I never have before.
It’s one thing to want to make a child with someone you love and who loves you. It’s one of the most beautiful things there is. I love kids, and I’ve always wanted a family. But not like this. Not at the whim of a man who’s looking at me like a prize cow, not a woman he cares about.
“So, I’m just your baby-making machine?”
“No,” Evan says abruptly, stepping forward. “Hunter, you never know when to keep your mouth shut, do you? You always barge in like a bear in a china shop, but not this time. Not anymore. You need to shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you. I won’t have you hurt Goldie, in any way.”
My chest aches from hearing Evan defend me and from understanding what my role is in all this. Robert and Evan don’t deny a thing that Hunter has said. They’re just going about reeling me in sensitively.
I don’t know what’s worse. Their softly-softly approach where they’re keeping the truth hidden until I’m too involved to pull away, or Hunter’s upfront, brutal honesty. Hunter’s an arrogant ass, but at least he’s telling me everything I need to know. He’s putting it all on the line.
My throat burns at all the angry faces in the room, and my situation comes crashing down around me.
I’ve lost my business. I no longer feel safe out in the world, and I won’t until they catch whoever set the fire. I could go to my parents. I could try to escape this house and ask for their help, but I know what they’ll say. I never should have stepped away from what they wanted for me. My mom will tell me she was right all along, and I don’t know if I have the strength to fight them all over again. If I go home, I’m going to end up being forced to give up my business and join the family one, and I’ll be miserable. They’ll bring up Aiden and his marriage prospects again.
I can’t deal with the ‘I told you so’ or the ‘just one date with Aiden’ conversations.
But being able to leave depends on the Bjorns’ willingness to let me go, and the way Hunter looks right now, I’d have to kill him to escape, and that’s not happening.
I feel crushed, and tired to my very bones. It’s not even the afternoon, and I already want to curl up in my bed and escape into sleep. A tear finds its way loose and trickles down my cheek, and Robert immediately steps forward.
“Goldie.” He reaches out for me, but I put my hands up.
“Don’t touch me,” I say. “I’d be grateful if you could show me to a spare room and leave me alone. I can’t deal with any of this right now.”
Robert glances at Evan, who nods. “Okay, let’s take your bag and settle you in.”
“Hold me hostage, you mean?”
I don’t wait for Robert to take my bag. I pick it up myself and storm from the kitchen toward the staircase.
23
GOLDIE
“Goldie.” Robert follows me up the stairs, and I’m glad because I don’t know where I’m going. There are doors and doors down hallways that seem to go on forever. I don’t want to end up somewhere I shouldn’t. I turn on the stairs, the fury bubbling inside me visible on my face and in my stance.
“Just tell me where I can put my stuff.”
“Okay.” He puts his hands up in the universal language of surrender, and I immediately feel guilty. This isn’t his fault. None of it is. Robert has treated me with respect and care, giving me everything I’ve wanted and needed, and more, and here I am, taking it all out on him.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not mad at you. Not really. Well, maybe a little.”