Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 167759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
‘Rose, I’m being serious.’ I push up onto my elbow to better look at her. Dark hair splayed across the pillow; her eyes clear. ‘Stay away from him.’
‘What is it between you two?’ she says, settling back into the space between my shoulder.
‘It’s just business.’ And a small matter of blackmail that his grandfather brought on himself a long time ago. Though he is now old and wizened, I have no sympathy for him. Men who prey on the weak are the lowest of the low.’
What is more personal than blackmail and perhaps attempted murder?
‘Speaking of business, you missed my mother’s big announcement earlier.’
‘I’m sure she won’t mind. In fact, I’m sure she won’t even have noticed.’ Her body has begun to relax, her breathing to slow.
‘She’s donated her share of Wolf Industries to her charity.’
‘Really?’ At this, she rouses as she asks, ‘Did you know? Before the announcement, I mean?’
I shake my head, my mind flipping to the standing ovation she received and the way she seemed to be almost lit from within. ‘I’m generally not kept in my mother’s confidence.’ Or she mine.
‘How do you feel about it? I mean, I guess that would’ve been your inheritance, right?’
‘I’m proud of her,’ I admit. ‘I already have enough.’ Enough for several lifetimes over. ‘Go to sleep, Rose.’ I press my lips to her head. ‘We can talk in the morning.’
‘That sounds ominous,’ she says through a yawn.
Ominous? No.
Lifechanging? I do hope so. Because I’m coming to realise that man should desire his life to be blessed with few things. He should want health, comfort, and to arrive wizened and grey to his own death, his heart filled with love.
47
Rose
The room is still dark when I wake, the silver drapes drawn closed. God knows what time it is. Well, God and my phone, but only one of them will tell me the exact time. If I knew where it was. Remy had watched the video file sometime last night, tossing my phone as though it had offended him, and not the bitch on the screen, as he’d muttered something unintelligible, his tone one of supreme disgust.
I wonder where he is. I can’t hear the shower, or much of anything. Just the quiet hum of the central air circulating the room.
Wherever he is, he won’t be long, I’m sure. And while we might be over last night, I also know it won’t be the last conversation we ever have about him hiding the truth from me. But it has to get better—maybe in time he can learn to open up? In the meantime, I guess I’ll always have making up to look forward to.
I roll onto my back, pushing the bird’s nest of hair from my face; half unravelled braids and bits of professional backcombing, along with the knots from Remy’s fingers. It’s going to take me an age to straighten, not to mention give me a sore head. Problems not for now, I think, as I stretch out along the bed, my fingers pointed to the wall behind me, my toes towards the bottom of the bed as I savour the delicious aches last night have left me with. I was so angry. Angry at her, angry at him, and so sick and tired of feeling like a puppet on a string. But I got my payback, even if I was on my knees. I made him dance to my tune. And then, he made me dance to his. So I ache. It’s like I’ve had the best kind of workout, the only kind of work out, as I stare at the pale ceiling with a wide grin, studying a chink of light from a gap in the drapes as it dances off the glass light fixture.
‘A smile. You must’ve had pleasant dreams.’ His assertion is accompanied by a soft, husky laugh. Meanwhile, I commando roll across the bed, grabbing the sheet as I go.
‘One of these days you’ll give me a heart attack,’ I complain, curling my legs under me as I push myself up against the pillows. ‘What time is it?’
‘Early still.’
‘Then why are you up? And dressed?’ I rub my palm against my eyes and take a second look at the tall, dark, handsome and infuriatingly sexy man sitting in the chair at the end of the bed. ‘Your shirt is all creased.’
‘It’s also missing a button,’ he says, dipping his chin and glancing down. The recollection of how it happened is a hitch in one corner of his mouth. ‘I was going to send it to the laundry overnight but then you fell asleep in my arms and I just didn’t want to be anywhere else.’
My heart does a little leap. ‘Beautifully answered.’
One hand slides over the flat planes of his stomach and I consider ruining a few more buttons before we’re through.