Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
She retreated to the bathroom and shimmied out of her clothes. God, wet denim was almost impossible to get out of, but in the end—after a lot of squirming and wriggling—she managed to divest herself of the garment. The rest of her clothing soon followed, all chucked into a sodden heap on the tiled floor next to the laundry basket.
It was as she stood there, naked, nipples and flesh pebbled, with a blue tinge to her damp, pale skin, that the bathroom door—which she’d closed out of habit—slammed open with such violence it rebounded off the wall and shattered one of the lovely porcelain tiles. Iris’s fight or flight instinct deserted her completely, while she defaulted to the lesser-known freeze in utter panic instinct.
Trystan Abbott stood framed in the doorway, his bearded face a study in rage and hostility.
Iris abruptly became hyperaware of the fact that she was naked and squealed—the sound pathetic and high-pitched—and crossed one arm over her boobs and cupped her other hand over her other bits. His eyes dropped, as if her movements had only now brought his attention to her nudity, and his lip curled in mocking contempt.
“Don’t fucking flatter yourself. You have nothing there to tempt me, lady.”
Iris could have curled up in a ball of utter humiliation.
Like she didn’t know that. Trystan Abbott had been involved with some of the most beautiful women in the world and, while Iris mostly liked the way she looked, she knew she hardly compared to supermodels and A-list actresses.
Whatever. This horrible man’s opinion of her looks didn’t matter to her. What mattered was that she was nude and he was in her space.
“This is an egregious invasion of privacy,” she said and then immediately wished the ridiculous statement back, when he bristled in outrage. Oh man, he looked on the verge of snorting flames… Iris could practically smell the brimstone.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re intruding and I’m the one invading your privacy?”
Fair point.
He clenched his fists and his eyes gave her another sweeping once-over before he—mercifully—tugged an outrageously fluffy bath sheet off a railing to throw at her in disgust.
“Cover yourself up. I don’t know if this is some desperate, pathetic attempt at seduction, but I’m not interested.”
What? How in the hell had he arrived at that conclusion? She glowered at him as she gratefully—and hastily—half-turned away from him to wrap the towel around her shivering body.
“I’m only desperate to get w-w-warm and d-dry,” she spluttered, annoyed when none of her outrage made it into her voice. Instead, she sounded timid and terrified. “So don’t you f-flatter yourself.”
Something that could have been considered amusement in anyone else sparked in his eyes. But that couldn’t be the case since Iris was quite sure that Trystan Abbott was an unfeeling, soulless monster. Human emotion was beyond him.
“I should toss you out on your bare ass,” he said, the sentiment all the more chilling because of the lack of emotion in that detached voice. She had no doubt that he was capable of doing exactly that and the notion terrified her.
“No. Please.” The naked plea emerged on a whisper and she couldn’t disguise her fear from him.
He glared at her for a long, silent moment, those famous eyes unreadable, his expression grim.
“I’m calling the cops. Until they get here, you’re not allowed to leave this space.”
Iris sagged in relief. It was better than being kicked out into the cold and stormy dark again.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, you’re going to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. I don’t imagine being stuck in jail in a foreign land is very pleasant.”
Being in jail probably wasn’t very pleasant, regardless of the country within which one found oneself incarcerated, but Iris wasn’t about to mouth off in this situation, and she nodded meekly.
“I understand.”
She wasn’t particularly concerned about the police. She was certain that the misunderstanding would be cleared up as soon as she was able to reach his manager.
He backed out of the bathroom, maintaining eye contact as he did so. Luna was sitting on the plush rug in the middle of the cozy living room, patiently waiting for her master. He dropped a cursory pat on the tall dog’s head. She got up, shook herself, and followed him toward the door.
Iris stood framed in the bathroom doorway, watching the duo pensively, somewhat relieved that he hadn’t made good on his threat to kick her out again. She doubted he would have given her time to dress had he decided on that course.
This was really much be—
Her thoughts ground to a halt as he removed the key from the inside of the suite door.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice raised in alarm.
“Ensuring that you stay put this time.”
“You can’t mean to lock me in here?”
“Can’t I?” His lips curled and her blood ran cold at the sinister intent she could see in his eyes. “I did say you’re not allowed to leave this space, didn’t I?”