Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
She forced me to become the hunter and she the prey.
“I think you’ve lost your fucking mind,” Harrison says, bringing me back to the present.
“A long time ago, my friend,” I mumble.
“This girl has fucked with you to the point where you aren’t the Nick Hudson I’ve always known. You would have never acted on impulse like this. You would have planned; we would have strategized every step of the way. You would have never just hopped on a plane solo without so much as mentioning it to me. What the fuck is this?”
I don’t say anything but rather watch Lyriope. I watch… my obsession growing by the second.
“It’s messy,” Harrison continues. “You’re a hot mess of… Jesus. I’m flying over there now to join you.”
“That’s a good idea. Bring Martha too,” I say. “We have Wonderland to plan. We haven’t done Italy for years. It’s time.”
“The fuck we do,” Harrison shouts.
I’m pushing the man to his limits. I get this. But I don’t give a fuck.
“I appreciate this little chitchat of yours, but get your ass here, and bring Martha,” I state, making it clear that I’m done with the lecture, and he needs to respect my goddamn orders.
I hear him sigh, but he doesn’t say anything else.
“Let me know when you land, and I’ll give you directions to where our new headquarters will be,” I say before hanging up.
I refocus my attention on Lyriope. She’s standing now. Pacing. Her eyes scan the area, and for several moments stares at where I’m sitting in the sports car. I’m not nervous that she’ll figure out it’s me inside. She’s too distracted. She’s too unaware. She’s too afraid. I can see just how easy this is going to be. Watching her from afar, not allowing her to put up her facade makes me realize just how terrified this girl is. She’s out of her element, and right now, when she thinks she’s all alone and no one is watching, she reveals her truth.
Her dark hair, her dark eyes, her entire aura belongs in Italy. It’s as if she came home to her roots and the Tuscan countryside is welcoming her with open arms. The setting sun reflects off her rich chocolate strands, her skin seems to shimmer against the humid air, and—
I can nearly smell her heady scent of pussy as it tempts me to her. Her calling card beckons, and I’m losing the battle of not answering.
I’m watching her like a goddamn stalker who can’t get enough.
I’m craving her. I have a hunger like I’ve never had before.
She shouldn’t have left me.
Never. Should. Have. Left.
It’s time she learns this lesson.
Chapter Four
Lyriope
I had slept through breakfast and lunch. I didn’t realize just how tired I was when I rested my head against the pillow. When I finally woke up, I had never been more grateful that Anton and Violet had a spaghetti with Bolognese sauce waiting.
“Don’t worry,” Violet says as she brings me the food. “We’re used to this. With the time change, the travel, and even our altitude, it takes our guests about a day to adjust.”
I don’t want to give away that this is my first experience with jet lag, Italy, and travel in general. I nod. “I needed this vacation. I’ve been so busy in New York.”
She smiles warmly as she pours me a glass of red wine. “Would you like some bread with this?”
I stare down at my dinner, my mouth watering, and I nod again. “Please.”
A gal could get used to this type of eating for sure.
I try my best to not look around and take in my surroundings as someone who’s never been in the room before. But the dining room is the most unique room I’ve ever experienced. The walls are stone, the flooring as well, but there are also large wooden wine barrels everywhere. There are also some large antique iron devices that I can’t make out.
Violet must see what I’m staring at when she arrives with a basket of bread. “Flour grinders,” she says. “This place used to be an old flour mill before it was bought and converted to an inn. And then your family bought it and turned it into their estate.”
“Ah yes,” I’m quick to say. “I remember that now. It’s been a while.”
My heart skips in fear that she reads into my face and can tell that this information is the first time I’m hearing it.
“Anton told me that you aren’t sure how long you’re staying,” she says, seemingly unaware that I’m holding this secret of my identity by a delicate thread.
“Taking it one day at a time,” I say, trying my best to mimic the carefree Sasha I know and love.
“Well, enjoy,” she says as she then leaves me to eat alone.
I’ve actually never eaten in a restaurant alone. And this most certainly feels like a restaurant. I’m not sure what to look at or how to act. It feels foreign and lonely. I also feel drunk with only a few sips of the wine, but I’m sure my disorientation to place and time is helping with that. I quickly eat as much as I can so not to offend Anton and Violet, but the amount of food on my plate would feed me for a week back home.