Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Good. I’ll see you later. Be safe.”
“Always.”
But she didn’t feel safe.
She felt angry and reckless and ready to burn something to the ground.
An hour later, Meg stopped on the sidewalk in front of Theo and Galen’s place. It was a state-of-the-art building that backed up to Central Park, complete with an elevator requiring a key to get to the various apartments and floor-to-ceiling windows to maximize the view they’d paid an obscene amount of money for. She didn’t know the kind of people who lived here, but they had to lead as lavish lifestyles as Theo and Galen did.
Not that she knew exactly what kind of lifestyle they lived.
Really, she didn’t know shit about them that wasn’t pulled straight from the tabloids—exiled prince of Thalania, party boy who shirked his duties, a player who constantly had a different beautiful woman on his arm. All of it was from when Theo was still Crown Prince, and none of it mentioned Galen or his relationship with Theo. More than friends but less than dating? Or maybe they were dating and just trolled New York clubs for girls to take home the same way they’d taken Meg home three months ago?
She didn’t know.
She’d never expected to see either of them again.
Nothing was going to get solved while she stood out on the street, glaring at the front door. She squared her shoulders and marched inside. A doorman subtly stepped in front of her. “Ma’am?”
Oh right. Buildings like this operated with high-end security that included a doorman to keep the riffraff out. Meg lifted her chin and tried to look like she belonged. Fat chance of that. I’m as out of place as a donkey at a dinner party. “I’m here to see Theo Fitzcharles.”
The doorman was an older black guy whose suit was so perfectly pressed, it made her eyes hurt a little. He studied her for a minute and stepped back. “Mr. Fitzcharles is expecting you. He’s on the top floor.”
That took the wind right out of her sails. “Oh. Uh. Thanks.” She hadn’t really wanted to get into it with the doorman, but a little confrontation to burn off her excess energy couldn’t hurt. Except you know better than to shit on people just doing their job. Get your head on straight, Meg.
Easier said than done.
Her head hadn’t been on straight since the last time she’d been in this building. Calling Theo and Galen’s home an apartment was laughable. Her tiny closet of a home was an apartment. She could fit her entire place into the bathroom off the master bedroom. Calling it a suite seemed so mundane, though.
Meg didn’t need confirmation on how different their lives were. Everything about Theo screamed money, even though he wasn’t the kind of guy who flashed it around to get attention. He just… was. Even if she didn’t know where he came from, she would have pegged him as old money.
Stop analyzing him and get up there.
The elevator ride felt like it took seven times as long as it should have, and by the time she stepped out into Theo’s apartment, she was shaking. Her anger rode her so hard, it was almost enough to drown out the memories that ambushed her the second she stepped into his place. She stopped short, barely registering the doors sliding shut behind her.
There was the couch where Theo had bent her over and fucked her while Galen licked her pussy. There was the kitchen where she’d stripped out of her robe and told Galen to come and get her. If she followed that hallway back to the main bedroom, she’d find the bed where they fucked until the sun crested the sky, and then slept curled up around each other.
God, it hurt to face those memories.
She rubbed her hand against her sternum and tried to reclaim her anger, but the feeling slipped through her fingers like smoke. She hadn’t signed up for this—for any of this.
A sound brought her around to face the hallway. Theo stood there in nothing but a pair of low-slung lounge pants, surprise written across his face. “Meg.”
It was right around then that Meg realized it was well after midnight. She crossed her arms over her chest, but that made her feel too defensive so she let the stance drop. “Take it back.”
To his credit, he didn’t bother to play dumb. “I see you got my gift.”
“It’s not a gift and you damn well know it. It’s financial blackmail.”
Theo raised his brows. “Apparently I need a drink for this conversation.” He headed for the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of whiskey that cost several hundred dollars. Theo doled it out into two tumblers with the ease of someone who had spent his life bartending. She had no idea where a prince would pick up a skill like that.