Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
My thoughts turn to ice as I feel someone’s stare on me.
Solomon walks away with LuLu, so I allow my gaze to survey the other monsters in the room. I stop cold when I find Ted watching me as he speaks with a couple. Recognition glimmers in his gaze and he narrows his eyes.
Does he remember me from Dad’s event all those years ago?
Will he tell Dad?
That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe Dad can come rescue me. I know with my father’s influence and resources that we could get these girls out of here. This could definitely be a good thing.
Dinner goes on rather mildly. Gareth shows up at some point and chooses to sit directly across from me, staring shamelessly at the place he hit me. I’d really hit a nerve asking about Emma. Now more than ever, I want to know what happened to her. Did he lose control in a fit of rage and hit the girl harder than expected? Was it far more nefarious than that? Is Kaitlyn in trouble?
I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the enormity of my situation. This is more than just my escape. This is women and girls—plural—who are victims in the Crowne web. Saving myself doesn’t stop any of this. They’ll still need help. Knowing I’m their only hope is an incredible weight to bear.
You can save them.
Be smart. Consider the bigger picture. Connect puzzle pieces one at a time. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Romy.
Speaking to Megan later will be the first big step in getting us out of this hellscape. It’ll do several things at once—assure me I’m not going crazy, test if Caius can be trusted, and give me a sense of accomplishment in the biggest puzzle I’ve ever attempted to finish.
I hope she’s okay.
I’ll be heartbroken if she’s bruised and beaten, body filled with drugs like that of LuLu. I need her help. I need her knowledge. I need an ally.
In my head, I can almost envision me and Megan rescuing these girls and bringing all these awful people to justice. It’s a childish dream, but it’s all I’ve got.
“You want to get out of here?” Caius asks, breath hot against the shell of my ear.
I nearly topple my chair over in my eagerness to escape. “Hell yeah.”
The guilt is back, reminding me of poor LuLu and the others who pick at their food, sullen and lost inside their heads. Maybe I can talk to Caius about helping them. He’s being nice to me.
Because it’s a trick, dumb girl.
The reality of this crashes down over me as we walk out of the dining room. Caius Crowne has been messing with my head since day one. What if all this niceness is one of his psyops? Just another way to see if he can get me to bend to his will?
I can feel eyes on the back of us as we exit. When we reach the hallway, just out of view of the people, Caius pushes me against the wall, caging me in with his arms.
With his dark, menacing gaze piercing me, I’m stunned, unable to move like a forest animal with its foot caught in a trap. All I can do is stare at him with dozens of questions and accusations in my eyes, waiting for him to strike.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, voice low and seductive.
Is this a real question?
I nearly laugh at the absurdity of it. “No. Never in a thousand years.”
His lips curl into a devious grin that twists my insides. “Play along anyway, love.”
I’m met with a growl and then lips crashing to mine. The shock of it has me gasping. My hands fly up to his chest. I attempt to push him away, but his solid, warm, and incredibly strong form doesn’t budge an inch. His tantalizing kiss that tastes of lingering cranberry from dinner and wickedness that only he possesses hold me captive.
The mind games never stop with this man.
Romy
Our kiss defies time and all reason. It works to silence all my rampant thoughts. I’m lost in the taste of him, finding enjoyment in our game of pretend. In fact, I’m having trouble figuring out what’s real and what’s fabricated.
It all feels real right now.
That’s what he wants.
It’s all a game to him.
Clarity races to the forefront when his hand caresses the skin bared beneath the slit of my dress. His touch on my upper thigh sends goose bumps scattering all over me.
Stop him.
I should stop him.
His hand inches under the material, delicately brushing his fingertips along the edge of my thong, and I don’t stop him. In fact, I whimper with need instead.
What’s wrong with me?
He bites on my bottom lip, tugging until it stings. It distracts me from what he’s doing under my dress. When I feel his fingers pushing past the edge of the fabric, touching the tender flesh between my thighs, I gasp in surprise.