Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“Mrs. Arturo, what can I do for you?”
When I open my eyes again, my gaze automatically shifts to Sebastian. I’m pretty sure it’s obvious to everyone but her how much he dislikes her—either that or she doesn’t really care. Sebastian does his best to hide his irritation and annoyance of her, but sometimes his mask slips, and other times his feelings are so profound they slip through the cracks. I’ve never bothered to ask what the problem is and why he dislikes her so much, kind of like I’ve never bothered to ask why he hates me. It’s better not to know the truth sometimes. Though I’ve never done anything to earn me so much hatred from him. Who knows, maybe Tanya hasn’t, either?
Maybe he just hates people for the hell of it?
It's impossible to miss the tightening of his jaw and the slight clench of his teeth. He turns to stone instantly, his body becoming rigid, his eyes narrowing, the typical emotionless mask he wears around everyone except me falling over his face.
No, he saves all his anger and hate for me. And enjoys making me see it.
Tanya creeps deeper into the room, sucking all the air out of the space. Just like always, she’s beautifully polished and put together from head to toe. Her ruby-red lips pull up into a predatory smile as soon as her gaze lands on me. I wish the floor would swallow me up and spit me out back in my bedroom, but I don’t get that lucky.
“Am I interrupting something?”
3
Sebastian
Am I interrupting something? The list of things that are starting to piss me off seems to be getting longer and longer. Maybe if Elyse hadn’t wasted so much time and had fucking suitable clothing—anything other than a damn work uniform—in her dresser, I wouldn’t be in this room with her and Tanya right now.
Who am I kidding? Rationally, I know none of this is Elyse’s fault, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make it seem that way.
Something about her begs me to give her a hard time.
Tanya, technically my aunt, although she calls herself my stepmother, has been living in the house for ten months now, and when I say living, I use the term loosely since I haven't seen much of her in that time. Thank fuck. She tells me—like I actually give a shit—that she’s been balancing her time between here and the house she has in Miami. I don’t really give a fuck what she’s doing as long as she stays away from me. For some unknown reason she’s been hanging around a little more lately, though, and I don’t like it. Just looking at her makes me sick. It makes me want to crawl inside a bottle of bourbon and never come out. I will deal with her for now, until I can figure out how to convince her to let me buy out her part of the house’s deed.
“Yes, you’re interrupting something, but we don’t have time for it now, anyway, so no apology is necessary.” I give Tanya a hard glance and peer back down at Ely, noticing how she clutches her shirt tight in her hands, hands that are visibly shaking.
Good.
I need her fear like I need oxygen because it means I’m in control. I feast on it, and she gives it to me so easily, it’s almost pathetic. And keeping her afraid shouldn't be a problem after she finds out where we’re going. I’ve gone easy on her the last couple of months, but I know it’s only a matter of time before she remembers things. Dr. Brooks warned me that once her memories trickle in they may come and go like waves. He also said she might not ever regain her memories from that night, so it’s crucial that I maintain control over her so I know what she’s remembering and not remembering. My own life and future hangs in the balance of her recall.
“Elyse, go pack up whatever else you’re going to need, and hurry back. We’re leaving soon. As in, in an hour soon. You don’t show up, I hunt you down and drag you out the door. Is that clear?”
She blinks up at me, her big doe eyes wide and shining with fright and maybe a hint of something else. Something I’m not even fucking touching right now. Maybe she doesn’t think I’ve noticed her lingering stares or the heat in her eyes, which she tries to hide beneath a hateful glare every time I say something shitty. She might be good at hiding from the rest of the world, but she can’t hide from me. I notice everything when it comes to her. In fact, sometimes I have to remind myself that she’s my employee, and this can only end one way. Developing an obsession for the quiet, fearful brunette is not necessary to my end goal.