Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
What if an enemy was responsible? Isobel had also mentioned a war. Maybe Callen had sent Mirren away for her protection. Look at the way he’d aided me last night. Reconciling a man cold enough to kill his brother and perhaps his father, and possibly the mother of his child with the man who’d rescued his hated wife, was tough.
Images accompanied each editorial, and oh, wow, did Callen Bruce give good photo. His smolder might as well be a drug. Intoxicating. Addictive. He couldn’t be this gorgeous and human; he just couldn’t be. But immortal? I’d have an easier time believing in an alien invasion.
Unfortunately, no pictures of the daughter populated the articles. Those of his live-in girlfriend revealed a pretty blond who gazed at him with adoration. More proof he wasn’t a hundred percent terrible.
I looked up soul switches and shapeshifters and did a deeper dive on berserkers. Dang. More myths, speculations, jokes, movies, and books. One obscure story caught my attention, however. A tale of warriors burning with inner flames snuffed out only by a fated mate.
Isobel claimed she was Callen’s fated. Or rather, she hoped her body was. What if this flame snuffing applied to our situation—and came from her soul?
A soul currently occupying my body.
What did berserkers without a fated one do to calm? Surely there was something. I mean, Callen hadn’t known Isobel his entire life. Had he?
Frustrated by the lack of concrete answers, I decided to wind down with a little window shopping. Everything Isobel lacked. Comfortable tennis shoes. Novelty T-shirts, soft cardigans, free-flowing skirts, and cotton pants. Books, books and more books. Starting with the sequel to the romantic cozy mystery I was all but foaming at the mouth ready to read. The heroine had a major beef with guys whose names started with C. Same, girl. Ahhh! There were seven novels in the series, and I must have them all! Maybe Isobel had a credit card hidden somewhere?
Perhaps Callen would gift his be-loathed wife with a shopping spree? I wouldn’t be selfish and only focus on myself. I’d buy him a couple of things too. Such as a kilt. Which I searched for next, the screen filling with beautiful tartans sure to turn Callen Bruce into a genuine gentleman rogue.
My cell phone rang, startling me from my deliberation. Isobel? Eager, I tugged the device from my pocket. When I spotted the name Mr. Bruce, a groan parted my lips.
I didn’t want to answer, but I owed this man big for yesterday’s save. So, I put on my big girl pants, pressed the button, and pressed the device to my ear. “Um. Yes. Hello. This is Eliza—bel,” I corrected with a cringe. Almost blew it. “Sorry. Let me reboot my brain and try again. This is Elle. Just Elle. How may I help you?”
“What are you doing in my office?” His gruff, gravelly voice caressed even the synapsis in my brain, making a host of muscles tense.
Ugh. “Did the guards tattle?”
“There’s a camera on my computer,” he explained, his tone more exasperated than angry. “I’m alerted the moment anyone enters the vicinity.”
Dread washed over me, my gaze zooming to the top of the screen. I smiled weakly and waved to the camera. Pastry crumbs fell from my fingers, landing on his keyboard. “Why do you not have a remote kill switch?” I went on the offensive, making sure he knew the fault for this invasion belonged solely to him.
“I do. I wished to see where this trail ended.”
“Well, you were asking for this. Otherwise, you would have a password on your computer.”
“Or I set a snare and you walked right into it. Who else would dare enter my office without permission, let alone surf the web?”
Entrapment! “Obviously, as the lady of the house, your office is my office. I do what I want?” I cringed again. A question when I’d intended to utter a statement.
To my shock, he didn’t rebuff me. “What were you hoping to find in your search about me?” His neutral tone offered no hints of his thoughts.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I mumbled. He knew of that, too? Well. Whatever. No going back now. So he knew. So what? Onward and upward. “The answer to your question is everything,” I replied honestly. Lies caused nothing but trouble, inside and out. “We’re married.” Kind of. “I should know more about the man I’m shacked up with. And it’s clear to me you’re keeping secrets.”
“Elaborate.” A demand he didn’t bother to couch as a request.
Okay. Showtime. Gotta be myself, remember? “No, I don’t think I will elaborate.” Leaning back, getting comfortable, I propped my feet next to Thora. Myself had questions. “How old are you, exactly? Do you hate me because I cheated with your brother? Do you have a mistress? Or more than one? What are their names? Are you in love with any of them? If so, how long have the two of you been together? Do you wish you’d married her instead of me? Or do you prefer to bang and bail randoms?”