Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Purgatory and hell.
That’s where I remain—eyes closed, unable to move my body, my mind drifting off to sleep. So tired . . .
The ground rumbles under me as the stomping of footsteps circle my body. The rough tips of unfamiliar fingers scratch the skin of my face as a pulsing breath scented with acid invades my nostrils. “There are only two ways out of this, Céline. You marry me, or you need to disappear for good.”
Softness brushes over my cheeks, providing comfort from the cold stripping me of heat. His hand presses over my mouth, and I realize the fabric isn’t meant to comfort me but to suffocate me.
I gasp for breath, my eyes going wide as I grapple to save myself. I yank his wrist away and turn my head to the side, sucking in air as fast as I can, hoping it reaches my lungs.
He stands, pressing his boot into my stomach. It’s not enough to cut off my breath yet, so I use all my leftover energy to scream as loud as I can. I grab his leg to topple him, but he’s too heavy.
Giving me a reprieve, he bends beside me on one knee, resting forward and amused as if my fear is for his entertainment. “You think you can outsmart me? I knew you were lying the minute you arrived in Rhode Island. Why would you knock on your own door? Your monogrammed luggage was nowhere in sight. But you know what the real tell was?” He scoffs, glancing around as if there are witnesses to look out for. “Lochlan Westcott.”
Loch.
My heart beats back to life as I choose to stare up at the sky over the man who wants to murder me. The slightest move has my back twinging in pain. I’m not broken, but I won’t be able to escape. I also won’t let him win.
I won’t give him a sound or an ache.
Clouds have burned away, but his face blocks the blue sky I’d rather see. My varied thoughts jumping from my body to my surroundings, from Loch to Carter and then to my fate, I say, “He saved me.”
“You’ve always been so unpredictable, Céline, but in New York, I could finally narrow down your routine to a ten-minute window. Enough time for me to do what I had to do.”
“To do what?”
“Unfortunately,” he says as if we have all the time in the world. “He was the one thing I couldn’t predict. Nobody expects a hero these days.”
My eyes veer to meet his. “You tried to have me killed?”
Expecting the ice-cold version that greeted me upon my return, that harsh reality isn’t there. Sympathy. Kindness . . . the softer side is unexpected and not right as he tries to hold on to something we once had. This side of him scares me more. “No.” He leans in and whispers, “I didn’t try. I paid to have you killed. The idiot just couldn’t finish the job.”
I was supposed to die that day . . . on a dirty street in the middle of the city, left to die as if nobody would care.
Someone did.
Loch.
He cared about me before he even knew me. I hold that close as a shield to protect me. Carter doesn’t realize I’m not the same person who left him at the altar. I’m not even the same person who showed back up in Rhode Island. I’m more, both Céline and Tuesday.
And I now remember everything . . .
The wedding.
The promise he broke when I saw him fucking a bridesmaid . . . a cousin of mine.
The new will that was sent over to sign as if I wouldn’t read the fine print.
I remember the threats . . .
An implication of my parents’ wrongdoing.
The deal that was struck—marriage to a man I detest.
Going to New York to get help to save them.
It’s all coming back and clearer than ever before.
He will not win. He doesn’t realize who I’ve become, and I refuse to go down without a fight.
I think about moving, but I hit my head too hard to take that risk. I’d never be able to outrun him, so I use a different tactic. “The millions you’ve embezzled, the extortion to marry you, and now I’ll add attempted murder to the list.”
His features harden as his eyes narrow. “I always did admire your spunk. The thing is . . .” He stands over me, looking down. “You’re not making it out of here. At least not alive.”
Walking the perimeter, he finds a large rock at the base of a post near an olive tree. Carrying it to the lake, he smashes through the layer of ice. Tears fill my eyes as I start to push up. I’ll never get away, but I’ll fight trying.
Kicking my leg behind me, I force myself up, but I’m grabbed from behind and dragged screaming toward the water. He says, “They won’t find anything until spring . . . whatever remains, that is.”