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)
“Sorry, guys, but we’re going to have to battle our way through this tide of shit,” Chance announced cheerfully and they both looked away from each other long enough to understand that there was a veritable sea of people outside the car.
“Fuck, what about the underground parking?” Trystan asked, his voice terse, while his white-knuckled hold on Iris’s hand threatened to bruise her skin.
“Can’t get the car through them. They got here much faster than we’d anticipated and backup’s not here yet, so we either sit here and wait—although it might take a while for them to get here through this throng. The police might get here first—or we strong-arm our way through them.”
He gave them an unholy, slightly unhinged grin, and cracked his knuckles.
Trystan’s gaze dropped to Iris’s face, his eyes dull with fear and concern.
“No. I won’t risk Iris getting hurt in the mayhem. We’ll wait.”
Just then some wanker thumped on the Maybach’s bonnet and yelled: “Are Trystan and Iris in there? Are they getting back together? Is—hey, fuck you, man!” the last when Chance restarted the car and released the clutch enough for the vehicle to lurch, causing the reporter to leap back.
“I don’t want to wait,” Iris decided, tilting her chin up and meeting Trystan’s gaze resolutely. “I refuse to let these fuckers dictate a single moment more of my life.”
“Iris…”
“Trystan you once promised me a safe space within your life, remember?” she reminded. His face contorted and he swallowed thickly.
“I remember.”
“That offer still stand?”
He exhaled, a soul-deep shuddering exhalation of pure relief.
“Always, baby. Fucking always and forever.”
“Well, that starts right now,” she warned, and his eyes widened when she nodded at Chance. “Let’s go, Chance.”
“Wait a second—” Trystan protested, but it was too late. Chance was out of the car, literally shoving people out of the way as he headed toward the curbside of the car. Once there, he used one long, muscular arm to sweep away two invading paps, dragged the door open, and then positioned his massive body so that he was between Iris and the crowd. Trystan hastily followed, ensuring she was protected on the other side as well.
The reporters went rabid at the sight of Iris, then frothed at the mouth when Trystan joined her seconds later and wrapped a protective arm around her slender shoulders.
A lot of jostling and shoving—at least one punch from Trystan, and a well-aimed kick to a crotch from Iris—later they were in the peaceful foyer of the apartment block.
Chance was still grinning maniacally as he ushered them toward the elevator.
“Saw that palm heel strike, mate,” Chance told Trystan as they all stepped into the blissful empty and quiet lift. “Sloppy technique, but that weedy little fucker is going to feel it for days.”
Trystan ignored Chance and turned Iris to face him. He ran his hands over her body, smoothing down her hair, straightening her waistcoat, his eyes grave with concern.
“You okay? Did they hurt you? I’m so sorry, baby. That shouldn’t have happened. We should have stayed in the—”
“Did you see me kick that gropey bastard right in the testicles?” she asked, brushing aside his hands. “Can you believe that arsehole used to be a friend of my dad’s? I met him when I was a child and actually called him uncle at one stage, for God’s sake. He was going straight for a boob brush, the dick.”
Trystan’s face went frigid.
“Who? I’ll fuck him up.”
The elevator dinged to a stop and Iris cupped his jaw and went onto her toes to kiss his scar.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s not worth a second more of our time, not when we have more important things to think about and talk about.”
Chance silently led them toward the front door of Trystan’s apartment but remained outside.
Iris stopped in confusion and stared at him.
“Chance? Aren’t you coming in?”
“The penthouse is secure. I can stand guard out here. Just don’t try to kill my principal, Iris, or I’ll have to intervene.”
Trystan impatiently took hold of her hand again to tug her inside before shutting the door with a definitive thud.
“Iris, we—”
“Oh my God, Luna, sweetheart. I’ve missed you so much,” Iris’s squeal interrupted him as the big dog came lumbering over with more pep in her step than Iris had ever seen from her before, the entirety of her hindquarters vibrating with the force of her tail wagging. She rubbed her big head against Iris’s body, clearly demanding scratches and pets, and Iris was only too happy to comply.
She bent slightly and wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck, giving her a hug.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she said into the dog’s bristly fur and Luna snorted into her ear, presumably returning the sentiment. When she surfaced from the hug, it was to find Trystan leaning against the marble countertop of a huge open-plan kitchen, watching them with a soft, almost adoring, smile on his face. Luna shook herself and ambled back to her basket, clearly content now that her people were in the same room again.