Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
It’s stunning. I’m sure it would impress everyone at the charity event. I don’t remember which one this is; I only know that Mason wants to attend to discuss business with a number of investors and it’s an annual charity gala I’ve gone to without fail for years.
For a moment, I can only watch Mason continue with the business of getting dressed, wondering how he could even consider the two of us attending an event together. “I don’t see how I could possibly go.” I can’t imagine standing in a room smiling and playing nice when I feel like this. When I’m trapped and cornered. When I’m literally scared for my life.
Mason’s steel gray eyes pierce through me as if he heard every one of my thoughts when I look at his reflection in the cheval mirror.
“You’ve had a couple of nights to think about things. You’ll have another handful of days to come around,” he says confidently and breaks my gaze to shut a drawer, holding a pair of socks in his right hand.
“Where are you going?” I ask him, feeling a touch of hope rise in my chest at the prospect of him leaving. I just want to go home. The thought plays in my head on a loop like a broken record.
His lips press into a thin line and he turns slowly to face me, leaning back against the dresser. “Do you think it would be wise?” he asks. He hasn’t moved but somehow he seems much closer than he was a moment ago.
I feel the blood drain from my face. “What do you mean?”
“Jules, my sweetheart,” he says as he sets the clothes on top of the dresser and strides toward me. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, my heart racing from the proximity even though he doesn’t touch me. “I’m still the man I was,” he says calmly; his voice is soft and it breaks something inside of me. The smile he gives me is sad and doesn’t reach his eyes. Leaning forward, he adds, “I can practically hear what you’re thinking.”
Thud, my heart pauses, caught in a trap that snaps shut around it. I swallow and focus on calming down to pry it free from the steel bars, attempting to pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about.
My head shakes to deny the truth but he reaches out, grabbing me by the nape of the neck and my hip, holding me in place and forcing me to look at him. It’s possessive, it’s dominating and it steals my breath. He hasn’t been this close to me in days. His lips are so very close to mine. Just like my heart, I’m trapped.
“I’m not going to lose you, Jules.” He speaks with an intensity that makes the world blur around him.
“I’m not leaving,” I whisper with a shaky breath, although even I can tell it’s a lie. My words are just as weak as I am when it comes to him. The corner of his lips twitch as if he wants to smile and pretend I’m telling the truth, but he doesn’t.
“I’m the same man you fell in love with.” The steel gray gaze softens, begging me to understand and believe him, but I can’t. The tension is thick between us, but how can he expect me to simply forget? When I look at him, I see it all play out, over and over again.
I refuse to believe I ever knew this man, but the very thought splits my heart down the center.
I could never love a murderer. I could never be with the person who killed Jace. Pain lances through my chest, and I have to look away. As much as I wish I could turn it off and stop loving him entirely, I know that’s not a possibility either. A piece of my heart is his forever, but that only makes me hate him more.
A question begs to be asked. One I’ve thought every night since he confessed. “You knew when you saw me that first night?” I ask him with a raw voice. That’s what I simply can’t wrap my head around. He knew who I was. He knew how much he’d hurt me and ruined me. Yet it didn’t stop him.
“Knew what?” he asks, sitting easily across from me and I look him in the eyes to confront him as I say, “You knew who I was? Jace’s widow.”
He nods once.
“How could you?” I ask as my blood races and whatever took over a moment ago vanishes. It’s yet again another betrayal. “Was I a prize to you? A reward for getting away with it?” I say out of spite.
His expression changes to one I’m growing familiar with. To distaste and anger. Apparently we both feel it. “Don’t you dare.” His nostrils flare as he adds, “Don’t you dare do that to us. To what we have.”