Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“I’ll give you an IOU,” she answered promptly. “Now, tell me.”
He thought of refusing. He considered what she would gain from the knowledge and couldn’t think of any since the NDA he had her sign protected him from every kind of threat she represented.
So why ask? Was it really because she wanted to know where she went wrong? Or was she asking because she wanted to see if there was something she could do to enslave him again?
She would be disappointed if it was the latter. Eventually, she would know that whatever lessons his childhood taught him – none of it had been as effective as Daria’s own betrayal had been. She was the one who taught him about love and distrust, and it was a lesson he would never forget.
“Nik? It’s okay if you can’t—-” Daria stopped at Nik’s shake of his head.
Nik started to speak.
His tone was completely dispassionate as he gave her a concise summary of his childhood. The more she listened, the more aghast she was and the harder it was not to cry. She could see how Nik was deliberately using technical terms to eliminate any kind of drama in his story, but it didn’t work.
She only had to read between the lines, and she hurt.
He had issues of displacement.
It meant Nik felt like he didn’t belong to anyone.
Certain foster parents proved to be unfit due to a conflict of interest.
It meant they had wanted his money more than they had wanted him.
He had spent most of his formative years with Beth Lewis, but the responsibility of caring for a teenager who was not related to her by blood eventually took its toll.
It meant Beth Lewis had hurt him the most, but Nik still believed it was his fault for expecting more than he should have.
When Nik was finished speaking, he was surprised to see Daria’s eyes bright with unshed tears. “You look like you’re about to cry again,” he said flatly.
She nodded, mumbling, “I probably would have long ago, if I was allowed to.”
Nik blinked. “Allowed? Someone’s preventing you from crying?”
She hesitated before explaining, “I don’t let myself cry as a punishment.”
He was even more puzzled. “Punishment?” When she didn’t answer, he said quietly, “Daria?”
Daria took a deep breath. “I’m punishing myself for hurting you.”
This time, it was Nik’s turn to become silent. It was tortuous to wait, and she found herself swallowing convulsively while her heart began to stutter again.
Up, down, up, down—-
But it was a rollercoaster journey that was more terrifying than exciting.
“Daria?”
Her gaze jerked back to his. “Yeah?”
“Never say anything about the past again.” Nik’s chilling voice made his unspoken threat clear, and her heart crashed as it realized that Nik wouldn’t hesitate to leave if she didn’t concede to his wishes this once.
In Nik’s eyes, Daria insisting to talk about the past was Daria admitting she wanted to make a fool out of him again.
Her eyes burned more painfully as she whispered, “I promise. I won’t talk about the past again.” And she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
From now on, all she would be able to do was love Nik without saying a word and hope that in time, he would hear her. Understand her. Forgive her.
Chapter Seven
The days Daria spent with Nik eventually fell into a routine. Mondays, he would leave early from work, arriving at her apartment right after lunch. So far, they still hadn’t been able to make it to the bedroom. They almost made it last week – Daria’s back was against the bedroom door, both of them still fully clothed. Mondays were always spent entirely in her apartment. She would have groceries delivered, and both of them took turns cooking. If they weren’t making love, they were either talking or doing something together.
Fridays, Nik skipped work completely, joining Daria as early as breakfast. Fridays were like date nights, only they lasted twenty-four hours, and they were always surprises. One night, they had gone club hopping, another day they had played tourists in Staten Island. They had attended a museum auction to buy artwork for his home, gone around Central Park in a carriage, and enjoyed a popular Broadway play with front-row seats.
Daria never spoke of the past when they were together. Nik never said goodbye when he left. And in the seven weeks she had been his mistress, Nik had demanded her presence outside of their scheduled days only once.
He had wanted her to accompany him in his flight to Europe. The moment she had boarded his private jet, Nik wordlessly took her to his cabin, and Daria earned her mile-high club entry that night. Only when Nik had gone and left her alone in the jet had she realized with mortification that the noise they made – her cries and the thump of furniture against the cabin’s thin walls – would have made what they were doing obvious to anyone who could hear it.