Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Gareth was already married to me, and I was quite certain he had no interest in me intimately, so who cared if he saw me without a scrap of mascara or blush?
I looked in the mirror, not quite recognizing myself. I was practically swimming in Gareth’s clothes, but the scent of his skin clinging to them was a comforting thing I couldn't really explain. My hair had no product in it, and my face had no foundation or eyeshadow.
I was just me. I was the me I could only be for a few minutes in between showering and getting ready on a regular day.
But today wasn't a regular day.
Today was the start of an entirely new chapter in my life, and for better or for worse, I had to embrace that.
I walked out of the bedroom where the bathroom had been, my stomach rumbling as the smell of breakfast hit me.
Brooks and Gareth were setting silver platters on the dining table in the suite, taking off their lids to reveal pancakes and pastries, platters of fruit and cheese, whole grain toast and avocado, and eggs and bacon and sausage.
Brooks flashed me a smile that was both somehow sharp and inviting. “I didn't know what you liked, so I got a little of everything.”
“Thank you,” I said, lingering by an empty chair at the table.
It wasn't until Gareth and Brooks took their seats that my muscles unlocked and allowed me to sit, too. I felt Gareth’s eyes on me, but did my best not to acknowledge his curious stare.
Brooks quickly filled his plate, and then Gareth did his, all the while casting me sideways glances. Once they’d finished grabbing what they wanted, I finally reached for a plate of my own. I reached for the scoop buried underneath the fresh fruit and piled a small portion on my plate.
I brought it back and took a quick bite of melon.
Gareth and Brooks’s eyes were on me.
“That's it?” Gareth asked. “That's all you want?”
My lips parted open, unsure how to respond.
I'd been on a strict diet since I was twelve years old. My father had final say over everything I put into my mouth, right down to the prenatal vitamins he'd forced me to take for the last four years, just in case he sold me off. He wanted buyers to know I was healthy and fertile.
God, even thinking about it sounded fucking medieval, and I wanted to rage and cry and crumple into a little ball as I realized how pathetic my life had been up until now.
And hell, Gareth might do the exact same thing, because while he was officially out of the family empire that he’d been born into, people never really got out. He might have gone legitimate and made his wealth the straight way, but I knew he was still close with his family. I’d overheard my father talking about it after the first poker game we attended.
Maybe Gareth would start dictating my diet, too.
“It's fine,” I finally answered, not really ready to dive into the fact that my last personal food choice had cost me several bruises on my ribs that had taken weeks to heal.
Gareth motioned to the variety on the table. “Everything on this table and you want just fruit?”
I couldn't respond.
“Serenity,” he said, his powerful voice wrapping around my name in a way that had my stomach flipping. “You can have whatever you want.”
His words released a chain reaction inside of me, like his approval unlatched some collar I'd had around my throat. I studied him, waiting for him to take it back, or scold me the minute I reached for the tongs, and put two fluffy pancakes on my plate.
Gareth made no move to scold me, but he did watch me. He kept those pale green eyes on me even as I took a bite of the delightful, fluffy concoction.
I moaned around the bite. I couldn't help it. It’d been ages since I tasted something as sweet and rich as this. So I took another bite, then another. I even had bacon—two slices. And by the time I was done, I was so full I almost regretted eating so much, but it was hard to when I'd decided for myself.
When was the last time I'd been able to choose anything?
I couldn't remember.
Gareth, Brooks, and I settled into a silence as they finished their breakfast, and afterward we quickly cleaned up, packed, and got on Gareth’s jet. The plane was Chicago bound, whisking us to his home.
“I’ll catch up with you soon,” Brooks said when we’d landed at the airport. “Call me if you need protection.”
“Doyle won’t try—”
“Not from him,” Brooks cut Gareth off. “From Dante.”
Chill skated down my spine at the idea of Gareth needing any form of protection, but Gareth just waved his friend off. “I’ll call you if I need you,” he said before leading me into the back of a private black car that ushered us all the way to his gated estate.