Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
My mother cried for a week when she died, and my father had been by her side comforting her.
I promised myself that I would never forget what happened to Dorothy, but clearly, I had if I had let myself get into this situation.
I kept flipping through the pages, stopping only when I saw another name I recognized. Doctor Sylvia Roth, OB-GYN.
Lucian actually had the results from my last pap smear and vaginal exam. Not only that, but there were extra notes, things I did not ask her to look at. There were notes talking about my fertility. Saying that I was at the perfect age and in the perfect health to carry strong healthy fetuses. There were even notes saying how symmetrical my ovaries were.
Why would he have this information? Why would anyone have this information other than my doctor herself? For how long had this man been planning on taking me?
I tore out the pages from my OB-GYN, as well as the records from my psychiatrist. No one needed these. Ever.
I slid the leather portfolio back into the drawer.
I made sure it was in exactly the same place and that the drawer looked undisturbed before I moved it back in. I was about to reach for the next drawer when I heard more footsteps just outside the door.
Immediately, I dropped to my knees, crawled under the desk, and prayed it was just the butler dropping something off, or maybe he was walking past the office on his way to somewhere else.
I hid in the cramped footwell, my heart beating against my chest and a cold sweat breaking out on my brow.
Of course, it was cold.
Everything was cold.
Even the Persian rug’s thick fibers dug into my legs, scratching my delicate skin, and felt cold, but I did not move.
Not until I heard the footsteps make their way back down the marble hallway.
I hadn’t heard the door open, and I was pretty sure I was still alone, but I still gently peeked my head out and looked around the office.
It was still completely empty, completely silent.
I stared at the bookshelf, the one that he had pressed me against the other day, kissing me, touching me, and igniting a fire inside me. I looked away and ignored the bloom of warmth in my core.
Apparently, all I needed to do was think about him, and that fought off the ever-present chill.
I reached for the last drawer on his desk, the deepest one that in my experience usually held hanging file folders. I pulled and the drawer did not budge an inch. Just under the handle, I could feel the brass keyhole.
Of course the documents that I would need would be under lock and key. Unfortunately for Lucian, I really was a bad girl when I was a child.
My father had a very similar desk, and that drawer was where he’d hidden his stash of candy. I was fairly certain my father knew I snuck into his office when he wasn’t home to steal candy, so he’d locked the drawer. Then he pretended that he didn’t know when I picked it and stole candy anyway.
Older desks were larger than their modern counterparts. They were heavier and statelier. They were also not nearly as secure.
I slid the top drawer all the way out then, laying it on the floor next to me. Then I reached in and flipped the lock on the bottom drawer.
It pulled open easily, and I was able to slide the top drawer back in place. It was heavy and awkward, but I got it in and no one would ever be the wiser.
I was right. The bottom drawer did have hanging file folders, all labeled with initials and dates. I grabbed the first one, and it was nothing but a list of first names in one column, dates in the next, and then what looked like probably bank account numbers and amounts.
The next was more of the same, but the amounts were getting bigger. I kept thumbing through files, looking for something that screamed evidence.
It would have been so much more helpful if Lucian had just labeled a file folder Evidence That Would Get Me Thrown In Jail.
Sadly, I wasn’t that lucky.
I thumbed through pages, wondering how as a college-educated woman, I didn’t understand a damn thing on here. Maybe I should have gone to business school instead of finishing school.
Pages and pages of numbers and dates and just first names. That couldn’t be normal. Surely the accounts would have to have last names attached to them. But nothing gave me any indication if these were deposits or withdrawals, money transfers, or receipts of payments for purchases.
“Well, well, well,” Lucian said.
I peeked over the desk to see him standing at the door, leaning in the door frame with his arms crossed. He didn’t look mad. It was so much worse. He looked amused.