Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“I don’t know if I. . .”
“If you kill him, they will arrest you. Even if we leave, they’ll arrest you. It doesn’t matter that you’re a billionaire’s son. They’ll arrest you,” I say. “If you don’t stop before that happens, I will not go back to Chicago with you.”
His eyes darken. “I thought you said you were only going to threaten me with that once.”
“We’re not married,” I raise an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be divorcing you. I’d be leaving you.”
“And I’d fucking find you,” he growls, closing the space between us. “I’d find you again and again and again.”
“Not if you’re in jail,” I point out calmly. “If you’re in jail and I’m forced to go back to Rhodes and decide in a few years that I’m tired of being alone. . .”
He scoffs. “You love being alone.”
“Yeah, but if you’re in jail for life, in a few years, I might want to date someone new.”
“Stop.” He shoots me a warning look.
“Maybe in a few years, I’ll want to have a husband and some little kids running around our yard and...”
“STOP.” His hands form fists as he screws his eyes shut. “Stop stop stop, jesus fucking christ stop. I won’t kill him. I’ll stop when you tell me to, just shut the fuck up.”
“Okay. I’m stopping.”
He opens his eyes, pins me with an angry glare, and moves his face close to mine. “Don’t ever put those thoughts in my head again,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Don’t ever make me,” I respond with narrowed eyes.
His angry eyes search mine for a moment, then he leans back and exhales deeply. He sits there for a couple of seconds, fury on his face before he starts to laugh. I stare at him, thinking he's really gone mad this time. He looks at me for a long moment as if in disbelief.
“Every time I think I have you, you one-up me somehow,” he says, eyes dancing, even though he’s still a little angry. “One of these days, Lyla James. . .”
I bite my lip remembering the last time he said that to me. God, it feels like a lifetime ago.
“Well, last time you said that, you made me fall in love with you, so anything is possible.” I shrug, smiling.
He stares at me for the longest moment and somehow calms down. The anger gone, the anxiety gone, all of it. He moves toward me again, takes off my seatbelt, and pulls me onto his lap. He kisses me. A long, soft kiss, and when he pulls away, he holds me closer.
“I don’t know if there’s something that goes beyond love, but whatever it is, that’s what I feel for you,” he says, his breath on my forehead. I snuggle into him deeper and relish the moment.
“Hey, Lach.”
“Hm?”
“If we get into a car accident and the car flips over and lands at the bottom of a cliff, you know we’ll both die, right?” I ask. He pulls back to study my face as I continue. “Or we’ll be seriously injured and lose limbs and then. . .”
“Lyla James.”
“What?”
“Stop talking.” He kisses me again and makes me forget what I was even saying.
CHAPTER 51
LACHLAN
It feels weird to be back here with all of this information. The only thing I can think about is all the ways I want to kill Jameson. I want to fucking slaughter him into goddamn pieces. I won’t, now that Lyla put the image in my head of her starting a family with another man. When she threatened me with that, I thought I might actually die right there in the back seat of the SUV. It’s a risk I’m not willing to take. Especially now that she’s finally — fucking finally — wearing the engagement ring I bought her, and she’s agreed to marry me. I swear this plan gets more complicated by the second. Originally, it was going to be simple. I was going to use her as bait to get the person responsible. Now that we’re here, I wish I could leave her in our hotel room with two security guards at the door, to prevent her from getting out until all of this was dealt with. I considered it, but I don’t want to know what she’d do if I went through with it.
She says I’m crazy, and maybe I am, but I’m fucking terrified of this woman. Whether she knows it or not, she holds my heart — my life — in her hands. I look out the window again, my eyes on the tall buildings we’re heading toward. Even though I think she should do it tomorrow, she’s adamant about going to her dad’s house to pick up a few things before the luncheon. She won’t say it, but I think she’s doing it since she has less of a chance to see him since he’ll be busy.