Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
With shaky fingers I turn it on, smiling to myself when the little photos of different types of drinks it can make light up.
The wind blows hair into my face, and I push it away.
Wait, wind?
My head snaps left, and I gasp.
The balcony doors are not only unlocked, but wide open, and it’s not just that.
It’s been wiped clean and fully decorated.
Rushing over, I kick my flats off, gliding my hands along the frame.
Rather than a small table and chairs, the floor is made up of cushions no less than fifteen inches thick, my feet sinking in perfectly. Pillows are piled high on the left, and on the right is a small boxlike tabletop with a candle, a few mini succulents sitting on top. That’s not even the best part.
There’s a bookcase beside it, a handful of books already sitting inside. Lowering to the soft cushions, I cross my legs, smiling at the green, sweater-like throw tucked in the corner. I grab it and lay it across my legs, then tuck a small, amber-colored pillow in my lap. I read over the titles and suspicion grows as I realize all are novels I’ve read before. Not that I’m complaining. I’ll happily reread old favorites and not just to pass the time. Picking one, I set it beside me and lift the candle. There is no label, so I close my eyes and inhale. It’s a subtle scent I can’t quite place, but I like it.
“How am I supposed to…” I glance around, smiling when I spot matches sitting nearby. “Nice.” Stretching slightly, I reach for the small box, but my hand freezes as I realize it’s not a mat they were sitting on. It’s a folder.
Sliding it free, I set the candle down, tension coiling in my gut as something that feels a lot like anticipation bubbles around it. I flip it open and my heart beats double time.
There it is, the state seal stamped loud and proud along the paper’s edge.
I really am married to Enzo Fikile.
A shiver runs down my spine and I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to decipher the millions of emotions flitting through me, irritated with myself that it’s not only anger and annoyance.
“You’re surprised.”
I tense at the sound of his voice, glancing over to find him leaning in the now open doorway to the room. His eyes roam over every inch of me, from the blanket to the pillow in my lap, to my book of choice at my side, taking in every single thing in sight with rapt attention. When his gaze finally settles, it’s locked with my own.
“Why?” he wonders. “I told you the marriage was legal.”
He says it so simply, like that should have been all there is to it.
“Do you really expect me to blindly trust your word simply because you speak it?”
“Yes. I don’t lie.”
“Yet you want to lie to everyone you know by pretending this marriage is a real one.”
He studies me closely, and I don’t cower, letting him search for whatever it is he feels the need to look for. When his blank expression grows to a firm frown, he lets his arms fall to his sides. “Run from me and you will regret it.”
He slams the door closed on his exit, and I wait for that harsh click of the lock turning, but it never comes. Neither does the relief I thought it would bring.
The next morning, I wake early, and I’m ready and dressed in something I chose before cranky Grandma even opens my door.
She pauses, raising a brow, and I wait for her to tell me she’ll be back later to “collect me” or something akin to an order, but instead she asks, “I don’t suppose you would like to join me for coffee before you’re due for breakfast?”
“Seriously?”
She blinks, so I wipe the shock away and push to my feet, sweeping a hand out to her this time, pretending I didn’t enjoy one in my new favorite spot this morning.
She leads me down the same hall as always, but instead of curving to the right where the kitchen is, she takes me left and into an open elevator. We go up what feels like several floors, and when the doors open again, it’s to a giant sitting room overlooking the back side of a large lake I didn’t even know was there. This is my first time on this side of the house.
“This is stunning.” I walk over to the balcony doors, testing the handle, and a little spark of excitement flickers through me when it gives way. The early morning breeze sweeps in, and I step out, my eyes traveling the grounds inch by inch.
I look to the swaying branches and fluttering leaves as the wind carries them across the grassy grounds. The swish-swashing of water beats somewhere, but I can’t spot the source.