Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
My husband. My stepfather. My lover. My captor.
No, no, no. I have to leave. I have to get away.
I pull the shirt over my head. This isn’t his. It’s kid sized.
It’s short enough to leave my ass exposed, and thin enough to give a full view of my pebbled nipples. Damn him. I have no choice now. Raking my fingers through my hair, I dart for the stairs and make my way down to the next floor my bare feet slapping on the hard floor with every step.
Fuck, this place is a maze and I have no idea who I can trust if I meet anyone.
It takes me forever to make my way through the building, going as stealthily as I can and doubling back on myself several times when I find a dead end or a locked door.
Finally, I find the first floor and an unlocked door onto the sidewalk. I burst out into the cool of the early morning. The moon is still hanging high in the sky, the city around the building a low hum as my heart thunders in my chest.
I’m leaving.
I’m leaving my husband.
I could be pregnant right now.
Stop. Focus.
I look over my shoulder, the back of the building a parking lot dotted with what must be staff autos because residents here don’t drive beaters like these.
I breathe a long sigh and glance left and right. In the distance, I hear the sound of an engine.
I shiver although the air outside is warm, knowing how exposed I am in the ridiculously small shirt.
Headlights catch my eye at the end of the alley, and a sob of relief clutches at my throat.
Darting into the headlights, I wave my arms in frantic panic. It’s a limo. One of those ostentatious stretched Hummers, long and sparkling, and I bet the driver wasn’t expecting to find a half-naked young woman tonight but I thank God for the first stroke of luck since I got here.
“Help!” I scream as it slows. “Help me. Please.” I dart around to the driver’s window, tapping the muzzle of the gun on the glass. “Don’t make me use this, please. I’ve been kidnapped. You have to drive me… somewhere.” My voice hitches as the tears flow, relief washing over me. “Please! I have to get out of here.”
“All right, all right.” The window lowers a few inches, where the kind eyes of a gray-haired driver in his sixties give me a sense of safety. “Where do you need to go? I’m an ex-cop, I can help.”
He steps out, and I lower the gun to my side, pulling the hem of the shirt down with my other hand.
If Ramses finds me out here, will he kill the driver? Will he tear open the doors and murder whoever is inside for stopping to help me?
Of course he would.
But there’s no sign of anyone coming after me. As I look up at the penthouse, I raise my hand and flip off the blank windows, imagining him staring out at me with that stupid, gorgeous smirk on his face.
My heart stutters for a second.
No, I tell myself. He’s a madman. He took you, carved his initials in your ass, forced you to marry him, filled you with his cum without your…consent.
“Come on, get in, I’ll take you to the police station. It’s just down the block,” the driver says, pulling open the door. “Take my jacket.”
He slips it off, resting the warm black fabric over my shoulders enveloping me in a new sense of relief and safety.
With a final breath, I catch sight of my face reflected in the black of the car window as I turn and hop into the back seat.
I’m still a disaster. Sex messed hair and no makeup. I look crazed.
“Thank you so much,” I say, dropping the gun to the floor as I sit on the cool leather seat releasing an enormous exhale, so happy to be safe I barely register that the back of the car is pitch black.
I lower my face into my hands, my insides quivering with the surging adrenaline that comes with running for your life.
There’s the scent of roses and that cologne…and the sound of breathing.
I freeze.
I spin on my bare ass, letting my eyes adjust until I make out the shape of a man spread across the whole of the back seat, his arms flung across the backrest, knees impossibly wide.
He’s huge...
I wiggle my toes on the floor, trying to find the gun, cocking my thumb toward the window. “I’m sorry, the driver—” I stutter, already knowing this man is not my savior. “I need to—”
“Hello, wife.”
That voice chills me down to my marrow as the row of lights along the ceiling slowly rise.
“Noooo.” I sob.
The back of the limousine is filled with bouquets of black roses tied with white ribbons. Heart-shaped silver balloons hover at the ceiling and there is my husband, tapping his front teeth together, lips pulled back with a click of his tongue.