Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Taking the two long straps dangling by my side, I tie a loose knot at my waist, careful not to pull tight over any of my injuries. My gaze scans down my reflection in the mirror and feeling more feminine than I have in weeks, I turn and leave my private bathroom.
It’s getting late in the evening and my lights are dimmed so I don’t notice Roman hovering in the corner until it’s too late. My heart leaps into action, beating right out of my fucking chest as my whole body flinches and comes to an immediate standstill.
The small flinch has the soft silk slipping from my shoulder and opening wide, exposing the curve of my breast and leaving me anxiously grabbing the material before it falls even lower and my whole tit falls out. Only nothing else matters as I take in Roman, covered in darkness. He takes a hesitant step toward me and I gasp as the blade held firmly between his skilled hand catches in the soft moonlight streaming through my window.
“What are you doing?” I rush out, backing up a step and grasping tighter onto my gown, my throat still hoarse and sore from the endless screaming I’ve done over the past few days.
Roman holds his hand up, spreading his fingers in a show of innocence, gripping the handle of the knife to his palm with only the strength in his thumb. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I don’t stop backing up until my spine is pressed firmly against my bedroom wall, and only then does Roman stop, allowing me some space. My eyes flick toward the door, closer to Roman by miles. If I have to run, I’ll never make it.
“Don’t,” he mutters, reading my mind so effortlessly, though he’s been in situations like this more times than I can count, he would know every single type of reaction there could possibly be and he would know how to outsmart every single one of them. “I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”
I scoff. “Forgive me if I have a little trouble trusting your word. After all, these scars on my back didn’t get there by themselves.”
His eyes drop, and for a fleeting second, I see a wave of regret rushing through his system, completely overpowering him. Though it’s gone almost quicker than it came, his ability to mask his emotions is like no other. “I understand,” he says, his tone formal and straight to the point, not something I’m used to when speaking to these guys. They usually prefer a little mind game in their babbling bullshit. After all, what fun is a normal conversation if they aren’t making a girl shit her pants before they’ve even gotten to the ‘how are you?’ portion of their discussion? “I’m not here to beg for forgiveness. I know that’s not something that will come easily. You’re going to have to learn to trust me again, trust that I have good intentions when it comes to you, and I get that I could be trying to earn that trust for the rest of my life.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I tell him, my body slowly starting to relax, though I sure as fuck keep my distance. “Though, on second thought, maybe you should.”
Roman just stares at me, not appreciating my comment in the slightest. Though, he’d be a fool if he thought he could hide in the darkest corner of my bedroom with a knife after everything he’s put me through and not get even a little bit of bullshit attitude. That’s not how the world works, and it sure as hell is not how I work. He’s stalked me through this castle too many times not to know that.
“Why are you here, Roman?” I sigh when he doesn’t make an effort to hurry this shit show along.
He gently tosses the knife into the air but keeps his dark gaze on me as it flips in front of his face. The blade comes down and he catches it in his hand, the sharp edge digging into his palm. He doesn’t flinch despite the sting I know he must be feeling. Instead, he simply holds out his hand, offering me the handle.
All I can do is stare at it, knowing how much power that blade holds, but I’m not stupid and I’m definitely not in the mood for his games. “Take it,” he urges after I make it more than clear that I have no intention of following his lead, especially when there’s a knife involved. He knows how I feel about knives since Lucas Miller decided to use me for surgical practice.
I cross my arms over my chest and fix him with a stare that could rival one of his own. “Why the hell should I?”
“Because,” he says, stepping closer until his face is mere inches from mine, kicking my heart up a few gears. “This is the only opportunity I’m going to give you to settle the score. Take it or leave it.”