Trophy Wife Read Online Alessandra Torre (Dumont Diaries 0.5-5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Dumont Diaries Series by Alessandra Torre
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
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* * *

I settle back in the chair, my lower back flaring in pain. My body is revolting, displeased with my new workout regime. According to the energetic ball of annoyance named Beth, I will be having my ass kicked for two hours a day, twice a week. Following that schedule, and my new diet, I will be down a dress size within thirty days. I reach back in my bag and pull out the Twix bar I snagged from the vending machine. I’m not particularly interested in losing a dress size. Not when every color coordinated outfit Rosit Fenton supplied me with is conservative as hell. I’m going to be killing myself for a body that no one will see. Well, no one besides Nathan.

* * *

I think of last night, how he had tossed a glass of wine into the sink and grabbed me, right as I was pulling my plate from the microwave. Any of my concerns over his attraction to me had ended in the twenty minutes of raw, animal fucking that he had given me.

* * *

I move my pen down to the last completed clue, double-checking my work before moving on to the next. I had been so pathetically grateful for the sex, the experience one of the only times Nathan had spoken or interacted with me all week.

* * *

I keep my voice low, giving Dad the clue and waiting as he thinks. He gets the answer quickly and I move on. After a half hour or so, his pauses lengthen, and during one long break, I open the windows in his room, bringing in fresh air. A few times he dozes off, then awakens again, his hand reaching out in a panic for my own.

* * *

Next week, Nathan and I will go to the courthouse and file the paperwork, and I’ll be his wife. His wife. It seems too soon. Less then two weeks ago, I was spinning around a pole and picking crumpled dollar bills off beer-stained carpet. Now I sit in a six-hundred-dollar dress, next to my father, just an hour from my mansion.

* * *

There is a gentle knock on the door, and Pam comes in.

* * *

“I’m sorry, but visitors’ hours are ending. We have to start night rounds.”

* * *

I nod, stretching as I stand, meeting her kind eyes with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Pam. For everything. He speaks so highly of you.”

* * *

She beams, clasping her hands together before her generous bosom. “He’s lucky to have a daughter like you.”

* * *

I force a smile, and hope it looks authentic. I know what she sees: a devoted daughter, willing to authorize any expense to ensure her father’s comfort and well-being. The previous facility knows the truth. They know that he was alone during the first six months of his sickness. They know a lonely old man whose insurance was running out, the one whose daughter didn’t bother to visit, or even send flowers. Though that is assuming that they got to know him at all.

* * *

I turn away before my smile breaks. I appreciate her false view of me, and the genuine care, love, and attention that this place shows to Dad. Maybe with every visit, the guilt will lessen. I can’t make up for six months of neglect. But I can try as hard as I can.

CHAPTER 16

I head out, through the lobby, the desk nurse nodding to me. “Good evening, Ms. Dumont.”

* * *

“Good evening.” I pull on a jacket and move down a long hall, past closed rooms and empty lounges. It smells of clean comfort, the luxury facility one that could easily pass for a spa. My heels echo against the floor, and I nod to a security guard. Fifty steps to my car. Sixty miles to the house. An unknown duration until his hands.

* * *

Inside, there is a hard twist of dread, the urge to get in my car and head south instead of north. The emotion makes no sense. In the moments when Nathan has reached for me, I’ve melted under his touch. I think my dread is more for my heart. With each experience with him, I guard it fiercely. And with each experience, I feel it crack a little more. Tonight, I’m at my weakest emotionally—my heart warm and grateful for the opportunities he has afforded me and my father. Tonight, before I even step in his house, I can feel the warm tendrils of emotion slipping uninvited into my heart.

* * *

I push aside the thoughts, and reach for the handle of my new car, a sleek black Mercedes, the car unlocking at my touch. Then, I am inside, the facility's gates opening, and I am heading north.

CHAPTER 17

Drew stands by the front door, glancing at his watch as I step out of the vehicle. “He’s been waiting,” he says quietly, opening the door as I approach.


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