Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Dad stares at him for a moment. I’m sure the bite in Lach’s tone caught him off guard. Instead of addressing it, my dad focuses on me again. “Will you come to the house tomorrow?”
“I. . .” Shit, I hadn’t been expecting that.
“Are you two. . .” He looks at Lachlan and then at me.
“Getting married, yes,” Lach says.
I elbow him. Not because I’m upset he told him, but because of the disdain in his voice when he said it. He may have been, as he said, a shitty father, but he’s still mine.
“Wow.” My dad inhales sharply. “Wow. Congratulations.”
“I would have asked for your blessing, but I didn’t feel like I needed to, considering,” Lach says.
I’m going to freaking kill him when we get out of here.
“At what time?” I ask. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Breakfast, then,” he says.
“Shouldn’t you check with Marie first?” I don’t bother to hide the disdain in my voice.
“I haven’t been with Marie for over two years,” he says. “I’ve been. . .” He shakes his head. “Please, come over tomorrow. We have so much to catch up on.”
I look up at Lach. I know that even though he’s glowering, he’ll go along with whatever I decide. “Okay. We’ll be there,” I say.
Dad gives me another hug and wipes his face again when he pulls away. Lach grunts his goodbye and holds my hand a little tighter, as he walks me to the bathroom.
CHAPTER 56
LYLA
I’m washing my hands and wetting a paper towel to fix my eyeliner when I hear the door open and shut. I glance up, half expecting to see Lachlan checking on me, but see no one. I look for feet under the stalls and find none. Weird. When I bring my eyes to the mirror again, Jameson is standing right behind me. I open my mouth to scream, but he covers it so hard with a gloved hand, that I can only hope the mic is able to pick up my muffled struggle. He doesn’t smell of cigarettes today. Or his strong cologne. Fuck. Did he do that on purpose? He stares at our reflection for a long moment, his angry blue eyes set on my very wide brown ones. He says nothing, as he drags me toward the door that leads to the hallway where Lach is waiting for me. My heart beats faster as he reaches the door. Instead of opening it, he locks it. I scream as loud as I can, hoping that the sound in my throat is transferring.
Jameson drags me to the other side of the bathroom. For a moment, I think he’ll take me into a stall and rape me there. I’m ready for it. I’m ready to fight and scream and do whatever I need to do to get away from him, but I’m also prepared to shut down if all of my attempts are futile and he goes through with it. I don’t want to be. I don’t want to even consider it a possibility. Not again. Not after all of these years that I lived in fear and shut everything out, in order to protect myself from the trauma. After I worked through it with a professional so that it would no longer dictate the way I live my life. But I have to be prepared, and sometimes that means numbing myself until I reach a place in my mind where none of it exists, even as it happens. He walks past the stalls. I keep kicking, screaming, and thrashing against him. I can’t kick him with my heel because of the way he’s dragging me, but I will the moment he lets me go. I’ll kick him so hard and scream so loud that the ears of the bodyguards listening to the feed will ring for the rest of the day.
“You know what I like most about this facility?” he asks in my ear, as he pushes another door open with his back. “The bathrooms open to the outside.”
I jerk my body harder, my eyes wide on the Olympic-sized swimming pool, as he drags me past it. Oh my god. Where is he taking me? Is he going to drown me? Is this really how my life ends? Drowning at the hands of a psychopath? He stops walking suddenly and I jerk harder, elbowing wildly behind me in the hopes I hit him hard enough for him to let go. I connect, but not enough for him to move. I see his cell phone in his left hand, watch as he clicks something, and suddenly, the fire alarm in the building goes off. No. Oh my god. No.
“Technology, am I right?” he says with a laugh, as he continues to drag me to the side of the building.
I'm not exactly sure where we're headed, but I'm praying it's not the parking lot. I know I'm doomed if he manages to get me in a car. He releases his grip on my mouth. I start screaming, a loud shrill that any other time would have carried for blocks but is currently drowned out by the alarm.