Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
This was starting to seem like a dumb and childish plan, I realized. I ducked next door into the bakery and chose an assortment of pastries. They were full of pears and nuts and one of them had marzipan. I paid for the mouthwatering treats and adjusted my grip on the box as it teetered a little unsteadily with the weight of the pastries loaded inside. I couldn’t wait to see their faces when I brought the goodies back.
I made my way carefully through the lobby, balancing the box as if it contained a fragile treasure.
“Oh, sorry!” I chirped automatically when I bumped solidly into a man who hadn’t been standing in my way seconds before. I managed to steady the wide, wobbly box as I turned to see if the guy was going to apologize for barging in my path and nearly dumping some very special and expensive treats on the ground.
Oh no oh no oh no shit please no. No. Not here, not him, no, please.
My brain shut down. I shuffled back a step on instinct as I recognized him. My entire body wanted to reject the sight of him and believe it was a nightmare, that I was somehow still asleep in the cabin having a vivid dream about my ex. About the nightmare I had lived.
Chris.
Blonde hair, star quarterback grin, wearing a popped collar polo and looking for all the world like he owned the resort and me and everything else. I felt long icy fingers close around my heart, cold as death. I shook myself out of pure terror, forced myself to think.
I tried to brush past him and avoid a confrontation, to get away and make for the front desk. I didn’t want to cause a scene in this lovely place and embarrass myself and everyone else. Maybe I could resolve this quietly, ask the front desk to send a security guard to escort him out or just call one of the guys.
I cursed myself for leaving my phone on the charger. I could have used the panic app and called them to me in an instant. I wanted to sink to the floor and weep for being so careless and stupid, for thinking of a surprise rather than using common sense.
Chris wouldn’t let me get away that easily. How many times had he thwarted my attempts to escape him in the past? A dozen? A hundred? The sick horror of being dragged back into that futile loop of torment and false hope and failed escape and more torment gagged me, stopped my voice, threatened to choke off my breath.
Chris’s hand closed around my arm, a bruising grip above my elbow. He kept smiling as he hauled me to the doors and propelled me out into the cold sunlight. I staggered along with him, trying not to fight him because he always hurt me worse when I struggled. Some part of my brain wanted to avoid a scene, but I would have screamed if I could have.
I felt strangled by panic, suffocating in my own fear and misery. He got me out to the beautifully landscaped area outside the resort entrance. Something about the icy air, the stark sunlight, the way that a group was chatting happily as they approached the door, their very safety and comfort and normalcy mocking me in my distress—all of it ran up my spine like steel.
If I struggled and he broke my arm, so what? I wasn’t a scared teenager anymore. I was a grown woman with more than one trick up my sleeve. I cleared my throat, made my eyes wide.
“Chris, please,” I managed to whisper.
I saw that vile, triumphant gleam in his eye, the one he always got when he knew he had me. I was prey again.
“You think if you ask nicely I’ll just let you go?” he said.
His voice was as friendly and normal as you please. The menace of his words was made even more chilling by the way he said it, commonplace and cheerful. No hiss of threats, no shout—just the everyday conversational tone of a man accustomed to doing whatever he wanted with no one to prevent him.
He was trying to pull me off to the left—to a parked car, to an outbuilding, it didn’t matter to me where he intended to take me. It mattered that there was no way I was going anywhere with this asshole. Remembering one of the first things Drew ever told me about self-defense, I stepped in toward Chris instead of pulling against his grip on me. I shifted my weight and slammed the entire box of pastries into his shocked face.
Startled, he reacted by raising his hands. Free of his grip and my burden of the box, I gripped his shirt in both hands, stepped in close and rammed my knee between his legs. He gave a satisfying yelp and went over onto the ground, curled on his side. Part of me wanted to kick him but I still had a healthy fear of getting close enough for him to grab me.