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)
“I can’t do this, Mason,” I blurt out with my voice low and pleading. “I can’t pretend.”
He rests his hand on the back of my neck, gripping my nape but running his thumb back and forth ever so gently. Each action sends mixed signals, and that’s the very crux of my position.
“You could ignore me all night,” he suggests with a sad smile. “It would be better if you did that… if we were to split in a month anyway. Wouldn’t it?”
His words are accompanied by a shadow, the night already darkening. Three weeks. I don’t correct him, but it’s three weeks that are left, not a month. Swallowing thickly, I glance at the entrance rather than entertaining his suggestion.
“Either way,” he continues, “we have to attend. We can’t appear to be hiding and no one is going to hurt you here.”
The lights from the massive crystal chandelier just inside the auditorium’s foyer sparkle and blur in a beautiful dance as two more couples enter. I ignore it and stare at the shrubbery that’s barely visible.
It hurts to hear him plan a split between us. I didn’t think his compromise, promise, whatever it was, was even a real possibility. Yet here he is, speaking it into existence.
Mason opens his door and leaves me without another word. I simultaneously fear him and love him, but worse, I hate myself for having any emotion toward him other than revulsion knowing he’s a murderer. That’s what I can’t get past. It’s easy to put a smile on your face and be what everyone else wants you to be when you know who you are and you’re happy as that person. When you have faith in yourself.
I’ve lost that. It’s a new low that’s left me shattered and scattered into small pieces on the floor. I don’t even know where to start picking them up. I only know the sharp edges will leave me bleeding out as I do.
Cool air drifts into the limo and the light shines just a bit brighter as Mason opens my door. With the wind comes his scent, a natural masculine scent mixed with a clean fragrance from his cologne.
“Don’t deny me, sweetheart,” Mason says just under his breath as I stare at his outstretched hand. His statement makes my eyes lift to his and I get lost in his swirls of gray and silver. I never had a chance with this man. A tortured soul lies behind those eyes that makes me weak for him. He needs love so desperately; he needs someone, and my very soul craves his.
He was my downfall. Created to destroy me. I slip my hand into his, comforted by the warmth as he wraps his fingers slowly around mine and supports me as I rise from the limo. I keep my eyes down and don’t look forward. I can hardly focus on breathing as my heels click on the pavement and Mason leads me forward.
I pull my black bolero shrug tighter around my shoulders and attempt to hide from the harsh weather while ignoring everyone around me.
The doors open and the mix of chatter and the soft melody of an orchestra carry through the air and envelop me as though it’s home, as though it’s safe. But I’m very much aware that I’m in danger. I scan every face for the one I saw only days ago. The man holding a gun.
At the thought I grip Mason’s hand tighter and he pulls me in closer to him, walking in time with me, our steps in unison as the lights get brighter and the air warmer. A small smile slips onto my face, although inside I’m screaming.
I’m dying from the hypocrisy, but intensely aware it’s my only chance of survival.
“Mason,” I hear a man call out and my smile falters only slightly as my steps are halted. We’re to be seen. Unwaveringly present.
“Father,” Mason says tightly and I stand there with a sweetness in my composure, tilting my head slightly as the breeze from the doors being opened again sends a chill up my back. My shoulders shudder and Mason wraps his hand around my hip, pulling me in closer.
I don’t flinch when his father looks at me. In a crisp suit complete with a charming smile, he appears to be an entirely different man than the one I met before.
“Miss Summers, you look utterly breathtaking this evening,” his father says and naturally my smile widens. It’s a shame a man like him can possess such poise and charm. I suppose everyone needs some way to survive and thrive.
My heart beats faster and my limbs scream at me to run, or worse, slap the bastard across the face for what he did only days ago, but instead I part my lips and respond sweetly, “I’m so sorry for the other day. I’m afraid I wasn’t well.”