Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“I called you,” he said slowly.
I swallowed nervously. “Oh, you did?” I reached for my phone in my pocket. “It must be on silent.”
I’d decided not to lie and say I’d gone to lunch. He knew something. I just wasn’t sure how much he knew.
Blaise walked around the desk until he was on my side. Our eyes locked.
“Madeline, do you honestly think that I’d give you a vehicle to drive and not put a tracking device on it after someone took you from me once already?”
I felt as the blood drained from my face. There was a tracker on my car. I had known that, but I’d assumed he wouldn’t be checking that constantly since he knew I was at work.
“My phone has a tracker already,” I pointed out. I did know that.
“Yes, but it’s different. It doesn’t send me alerts when your car is moving.”
Well, shit. I let out a sigh and crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly annoyed. Did I have no privacy at all? It felt like every move I made was watched closely. It was a miracle I could go to the toilet alone.
“Tell me, Blaise, why do you need alerts when the car you claim is mine—but isn’t mine at all—starts moving? How is that keeping me safe? Do you think a kidnapper is going to use that car to take me? No. They wouldn’t be that dumb. The tracker on my car must only be so that you know what I’m doing and where I am at all times. You have a trust issue.”
Blaise put his hands on the armrests of my chair, caging me in. “I need to know you are safe when you’re driving alone. You’re mine, and because of that, you’re a fucking target.”
That excuse made me angry. He used it too much. Whenever he wanted me to understand his reasoning behind things. Always my safety and me being a target.
“I was unaware I needed permission to go buy aspirin for a headache. I’ve been alerted now, and I will be sure it doesn’t happen again!” I shouted in his face.
“Jimmie would have given you aspirin when you went to get lunch. She has all the pain meds you need. What is hurting you?” he replied.
I shoved him back, using both my hands, and stood up. I didn’t like feeling as if he had all the control. I might be keeping something from him, but I still had a point. He didn’t own me. I should have my freedom.
“Why can’t I go to a store if I want to? Why must I ask permission? I’m not a child. You aren’t my daddy.”
Blaise smirked then, and my hand suddenly itched to slap his gorgeous face.
“I’m about to put you over my lap and spank your ass,” he warned in a low voice.
I pointed at the cameras. “Uh, no,” I replied and went to walk away from him.
His hand wrapped around my arm and pulled me back against his chest. He was quicker than I was. Damn him. I could feel his erection against my back.
“That bathroom doesn’t have cameras. You keep pushing me with that smart mouth, and we will forgo the spanking. I’ll shove my cock in that mouth.”
I closed my eyes tightly, angry that his words turned me on. I needed help. I was as crazy as he was, and it just seemed to be getting worse. He had tracked me and come here to grill me about where I had been. That was not okay. I had to remember that.
“I have work to do, Blaise,” I said through clenched teeth.
I would not think about his dick. I would not. I would not.
He ran his hands down my arms, then let me go. “Okay. Work then,” he said and stepped back. “But please let me know when you’re going somewhere alone. I don’t know who is watching you. My guys haven’t seen anything recently, but that’s just been since you left town. Word is going to get out that you’re back now because of the gala.”
The gentle pleading in his voice got to me. He was worried about me. Apparently, he had good reason to be.
If he didn’t care about me, then I’d be alone. As much as I loved Blaise, I knew I needed him too. He was all I had in this world.
Nineteen
Madeline
The two blue lines were said to change your life. How much more could mine be changed? Yet here I was, about to have it all change again. With paper towels, I wrapped up the proof that my nausea was a pregnancy symptom, then tucked it under other garbage in the can.
I couldn’t go to the pharmacy alone for safety reasons, and I was bringing a child into this world. This was not a life you raised a child in, and Blaise was not a father figure. What kind of mom would I be when I barely remembered mine? I had no model to follow. I’d had no mother to teach me how to do it right. I couldn’t do this to a child. It wasn’t about not being ready. It was about the life it would be given. With a mother who had no clue how to be a mother.