Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 56462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“It’s going to be okay,” he says, stepping into me, his hands finding my waist, only I spring back, slamming my hands down to knock his touch away.
“Don’t,” I rush out, darting across the living room and only narrowly avoiding him, yet when he takes another step in my direction, I can’t help but grab the small vase off the coffee table and launch it toward his stupidly gorgeous head.
Nick avoids the flying vase with ease and we both watch as it smashes against the wall behind his glorious head. “Really?” he says, his gaze slowly coming back to mine.
“Take me home,” I demand, clenching my jaw and mustering up every ounce of defiance I can possibly find within myself. “This isn’t what I meant, and you know it. I wanted a life with you, yes. But I wanted a life on my terms. You have literally stolen me away from everything I know.”
“You were fucking miserable in New York.”
“I DON’T CARE,” I yell. “I had the right to decide for myself if I wanted to be swept away. This place is . . .” I look around, not able to find the words to describe Nick’s home, but lonely sure comes to mind. “There’s not another soul in sight. No other homes, nothing for me to do here but sit and wait and play the role of your perfect little wifey. Well, fuck you. I don’t want it like this. Take me home.”
Nick clenches his jaw, something shifting in his dark stare. “I can’t do that.”
“The fuck you can’t,” I demand. “Take me home. Now.”
Nick strides toward me, and this time, I don’t flinch away from him, somehow knowing that he won’t hurt me. “My hands are tied, Mila. I can’t take you home,” he tells me, those dark eyes lingering so deeply on mine and confusing every thought inside my head. “You made a Christmas wish, and now that your wishes have been carried out, there’s nothing I can do about it. If you truly don’t want to be here, then you need to wish it away.”
Pain lingers behind his eyes, and for just a moment, I can almost pretend that maybe he really wanted this. Maybe bringing me here wasn’t some sinister plan to kidnap me. Maybe everything he did was out of love. But I was right to question myself. How can you love somebody you don’t even know?
“Then I wish it away,” I tell him, unsure why I feel as though my heart is tearing in two. “I wish to be taken back to New York.”
Nick simply stands there, his gaze locked on mine. “You don’t truly mean that.”
I raise my chin, unsure why my eyes are filling with tears. “I do,” I tell him, hating how I wish he would wrap his arms around me and hold me to his chest, telling me that everything is going to be okay.
“I can’t grant you something you don’t truly desire, Mila,” he says, his hand coming up and brushing the side of my face. “I know you are confused and unsure about how all of this has played out, but you don’t truly wish to be sent back home. You wanted this. You wanted to be mine.”
I shove him away, my emotions in an epic game of ping pong and giving me whiplash. “Yes, I might have wanted to be with you, but not like this,” I say, the tears finally flowing free. “Send me home.”
He shakes his head. “Like I said, I can’t do that.”
“You can and you will. That’s what I want. What I wished for.”
“It’s not quite as simple as that,” he tells me. “Once the sun rises on Christmas morning, I no longer possess the ability to grant your wishes. Look around you, Mila. The sun has fallen, and Christmas Day is almost over.”
My brows furrow as I follow his gaze out the window. “What are you saying? That I’m stuck here?”
Nick nods. “Yes. For the next twelve months. Come next December, if you truly want to leave, all you need to do is wish it.”
“Holy fucking shit.” I press my hands to my temples as I pace the length of the living room, my headache suddenly coming back in full force. “Twelve fucking months? I’m stuck here in this snow globe prison for a whole year?”
“Surely you must understand,” he says. “I have loved you since I was a boy. I was fine watching from the sidelines, but the moment you allowed me to touch you, there was no going back for me. I am yours. I have always been yours.”
“Oh wow. Lucky me. My kidnapper is in love. How fucking sweet.”
“Mila—”
“You’re a psychopath.”
Nick grins, and his eyes dance with darkness. “Perhaps. But that’s what you like about me, isn’t it, baby?” he murmurs, stepping into me again, his dark stare locking onto mine and catching me completely unaware. “You liked it when I snuck into your room every Christmas Eve. You like when you get me so worked up that I have no choice but to fuck myself. And you fucking love it when that wild part of me comes out and makes you scream. Don’t start denying that this is exactly what you want. You asked for this. You asked for me, and now that you’ve got it, you’re going to stand here and pretend that this isn’t exactly what you’ve been craving all fucking year.”