Total pages in book: 266
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
I walk him out and close the house up behind him. Entering the kitchen, I pick up the spilled wine and broken glass, cleaning everything up for her. After taking out her trash, I pick up my phone off the counter and pull up the contact I want. I stare at it for a few seconds, trying to calm my racing heart. Fuck, I hate this bitch so goddamn much. But this has to be done.
Hitting call, I place the cell to my ear and pace Charlotte’s kitchen.
“Hello, Haidyn.” The woman answers on the first ring. “I knew you’d come around eventually.”
“I want your word,” I demand, ignoring her statement. This is what she wanted.
Her laughter makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“Give me your fucking word!” I bark, not in the mood for her bullshit games right now.
She clears her throat. “You’re not in any position to…”
“You want me? Then you fucking promise me that you don’t touch her!” I know what’s coming. And I’m willing to do what she wants as long as it guarantees my wife is safe.
“You have my word,” she states. “Annabelle won’t be touched.”
I hang up and slam the phone down onto the counter. I was never meant to live a long life. That’s why I never understood why Saint wanted marriage and kids. It’s something he’ll leave behind for others to take care of. And I would trust only a handful of people to care for Charlotte. And when the time comes, I’ll have to make that last call to ensure her safety.
I’m still in the kitchen when I look up and see her entering. “Good evening, doll face.” I give her a big smile, glad to see her up and walking around.
She looks up at me through her wild dark hair that falls over her shoulder and down the front of her bare chest. Her bloodshot eyes are hard, and her face tight.
I go over to the kitchen table and pull out a seat for her. She sits and buries her face in her hands. Putting some food on a plate, I place it in front of her. “Eat up.”
“Not hungry,” she groans.
Coming down from an adrenaline shot can be rough. Especially after what she was originally given to knock her out. Her body needs time to heal. Lots of rest. “How do you feel?” I ask, reaching out and touching her forehead.
She pushes my hand away and demands, “What the hell happened, Haidyn?”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. I’ve been waiting very impatiently for her to wake up but also dreading it knowing she’d want an explanation. “What do you remember?”
“Don’t do that.” She shakes her head, her voice sounding exasperated. “Only fill in what you think I deserve to know.”
“Charlotte…”
“This is my fucking life!” she shouts. Jumping up from her chair, she picks up the plate and throws it across the room. It hits the floor and shatters; the food goes flying across the tile and splatters against parts of the wall. Taking a deep breath, she pushes her wild hair from her face and sits back down. Her tired eyes meet mine. “I came home and there was a glass of wine on the counter.” She nods to the island before bowing her head once again. “I thought it was you. That you had beat me home and had it out and ready for me. I downed it. There were two Lords here…” She pauses, and I frown. Two? I only saw one when I arrived. “Next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor thinking I was dying. Then I woke up, naked and tied to my bed. You fucked me, and I passed out.” Her eyes meet mine again and there’s a challenge in them that I wish I could ignore. “So you tell me, Haidyn…what did I miss?”
I pull out a chair and sit across from her. Out of range of her fist and I made sure to hide all of her knives and the gun I found hidden in a drawer. If she kills me, I can’t protect her. “I found you on the kitchen floor. I thought you were dead but that’s how you’re supposed to appear.” Her eyes narrow, not understanding, but I continue. “I called Gavin, and he brought me adrenaline to bring you back…”
“Bring me back from where?” she demands, not second-guessing what I’m saying. Why would she? She’s proven that she trusts me with her life. My wife doesn’t expect me to lie to her, but I can’t tell her everything that took place while she was out. Because then I’d have to explain who was here and what I had to do in order to save her.
“You were given a drug that slows your heart rate to the point where it makes you appear dead. The only way to bring you back is adrenaline.”