Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
I blink, looking up to find Bastian and Royce. He spins to me, his face taut. Slowly, I sit up and step out.
“Where is she?” he demands.
My unwelcome, twisted thoughts get the best of me, and I smirk. “Where is who?”
“Fuck this. Let’s head back, grab her on the way,” Royce says, already moving toward the truck he rode in.
“Yeah, that won’t work.” I cock my head. “She didn’t walk.”
Bastian prowls toward me, soaking up all the air and forcing me to breathe in only him. “What are you talking about?”
“I was scrolling through Instagram and lost service,” I lie. “So I hopped out and walked around a bit, within the five-foot span, so don’t have an aneurysm.”
His eyes narrow accusingly, reading deeper than the surface of my words. Always deeper, and it takes real work not to crack.
He doesn’t call me out, but his disapproval is clear in his tone. “Keep talking.”
“Imagine my surprise when I spotted the girl of the hour slipping into the night with a different knight.” I look to the sky as an excuse to break eye contact. “Ah, the irony, right?”
The Brayshaw doesn’t appreciate my callous, mocking tone. “Get to the fucking point, girl.”
“Oh, an angry boy, nice.”
“Cut it,” Bastian snaps. “Where’d she go?”
“Hopped in a car.”
“What fucking car?”
I force another smirk. “I could show you.”
Royce jerks forward and I lift my chin, daring him to come closer. I won’t hesitate to take out his left lung, but I don’t have to as Bastian flips into protective mode in an instant, blocking him with a sharp glare before focusing on me.
My chest warms, but I push it away, forcing a clipped laugh and shitty attitude. “Ah, down, boy.” I stare into his eyes, my facade beginning to crumble as he holds my gaze prisoner. I need an answer, confirmation of … something. He knows, senses it, and I swear, for the smallest of seconds, his features grow soft.
“First, I need your word that you’ll—”
Suddenly, his lips are hard on mine, angry and punishing and longing and way too fucking quick. I want to fall into him, but he pulls back before I can.
He’s still there, so close as he whispers in a tender, promising tone, “Quiet, Rich Girl.”
My eyes close briefly, soaking in the sound, and he gently takes my phone from my grasp.
A mocking laugh comes from the asshole beside us, and my attention flicks his way.
“Damn, Bishop, girl’s got a Brayshaw-size hard-on for you,” he says.
Frustrated, I slip my mask back in place, ignoring whatever comes from Bastian’s mouth until I hear him say, “Password?”
Ohhh.
Shit.
He sees it, my panic. I quickly look away when his eyes narrow, but he closes the gap between us.
“We don’t have time for this junior high bullshit,” Royce pops off again.
My lips curl, but Bastian wants all my attention, as eager to learn what I don’t want to share as he is to get into my phone.
“I haven’t changed it in a while …” Kind of a lie. I did change it. When I was pissed at him.
It was petty and childish, and it felt good in my petty, childish moment. Now? Not so much.
“Password,” he snaps.
Fuck it. He made me think he didn’t want me. Maybe he deserves to be a little pissy.
I straighten my spine and prepare for the rage he’ll feel but won’t show. “D-O …”
“M?” he growls.
I clear my suddenly dry throat, nodding. “And add an S.”
“Who’s Dom?” We ignore the Brayshaw.
Bass glares and I can’t take it.
It’s a low blow, considering. I know this, and so I slowly step away, leaving my phone with him, but no more than a minute passes, and then he’s tugging my door open.
He squats beside me, the look in his eyes haunted as he drops my phone into my lap. “The dude I told you I punished? He has her.”
Guilt falls heavy on my shoulders. “I tried to call you and tell you she was leaving.”
He nods, shuffles closer and grips my thighs, his expression growing serious as he speaks for only me to hear. “This little role you’re playin’ here? Stop.”
“I’m—” I almost lie but cut myself off.
“Ain’t no scheme here. No roles, fake smiles, or flirty bullshit.” He frowns, a hint of hurt in his gaze, though it’s buried deep down. “When you’re with me, you’re you and no one else.”
There’s no malice or condemnation in his tone, simply a clear expression of his expectation. Delivered strong and clear, but …
“You don’t get it.” I don’t mean to whisper, but that’s how my voice leaves me and then his fingertips glide down my jaw. My eyes flutter closed a moment, but I shake my head. “This is how it has to be. It’s why I had to do what I did at the gala.”
Because love kills. If the outside world knows what he means to me, bad things could happen. I couldn’t survive that. Not now that I know what life without him feels like.