Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I cringe, and suddenly, his weight is gone.
He’s standing three feet away from where I lie sprawled on the bed, completely disoriented by his abrupt decision to release me.
“You’ll want to get freshened up before I show you around the estate,” he says, the perfectly composed, genteel host. He tips his head in the direction of an ensuite bathroom. “Go on. I’ll wait here for you.”
Now that he’s mentioned it, I become acutely aware of the fact that I’ve neglected my basic needs. How long was I unconscious?
My cheeks heat, and I duck past him into the bathroom.
Once I’m a bit more composed, I splash cold water onto my flushed face. The awful weight of my new reality presses down on my shoulders like a ton of lead, and it’s all I can do to keep my shaking knees from buckling. I grip the sink for support. My knuckles are almost as white as the porcelain.
I’m alone with a madman on a remote estate. He’s already proven that he’s so much stronger than I am. Fighting him had only given him an excuse to pin me down and attempt to coax shameful pleasure from my unwilling body.
I won’t make that mistake again.
Dane doesn’t value my consent. That much has become painfully clear.
He thinks I love him. If I can convince him that I will never feel a shred of affection for him again, he might let me go. He seems obsessed with his misguided belief that I belong to him. Once he accepts that I will never surrender my heart, he’ll grow tired of me. He’ll release me, and I can return home to Charleston.
I straighten my spine and face myself in the mirror. I take several deep breaths and convince myself that my plan will work.
It has to work.
Because the ache in the center of my chest is from more than just the fearful pounding of my heart. I did love Dane, and the loss has shattered something inside me. Being near the monster who wears his face will be agonizing, but I’ll have to bear it.
My freedom depends on it.
His soft knock on the door draws a shocked yelp from my tight chest.
“Let me in, Abigail.”
“I’m coming out.”
I don’t want him to break down the door to get to me.
I slide the lock back, and he towers over me. I swallow hard and edge away from him. He follows my movement, staying resolutely in my personal space.
“What are you doing?” I demand breathlessly.
He gingerly touches two fingers to the bloody cut on his brow. “I need to get cleaned up. Stay.”
He issues the command like I’m a wayward pet. I grit my teeth against the tirade that teases at the tip of my tongue.
I will remain compliant. I won’t give him the excuse to manhandle me again.
My wits will get me out of this. I have to keep them sharp, and I know his unwelcome touch will devastate me.
He hisses softly when he cleans the cut I inflicted, but he doesn’t rebuke me for attacking him. I’m relieved he doesn’t lash out in reprisal for the pain I caused him.
My heart breaks all over again. The Dane I loved would’ve done anything to protect me. He cherished me, and I trusted that he would never harm me.
This monster who kidnapped me is completely unpredictable. He was capable of holding a knife to my throat while he violated me. He could turn violent at any moment, so I have to remain calm and not give him any reason to harm at me.
He doesn’t look at me for the few minutes it takes him to find a pack of bandages in the medicine cabinet. It’s almost as though he’s ignoring me, if it weren’t for the menace rolling off him in waves. His every movement is tense with barely leashed aggression, but, mercifully, he doesn’t try to assault me again.
When he turns to face me, the blood has been washed from his face, and the only sign of the wound I gave him is a tiny bandage on his forehead. His midnight hair tumbles over his brow, almost concealing it entirely.
He sweeps the unruly locks back, smoothing them into his usual neat style. He’s completely unruffled and utterly composed when he holds out his hand like a gentleman.
I stare at it, unwilling to place my hand within his grasp. My fists clench at my sides in silent defiance. His sharp gaze flicks over my rigid posture, and he shrugs.
He drops his hand to his side as though the tense exchange doesn’t bother him in the slightest, but his jaw remains tight enough that a shadow flits at his cheek.
“I’ll show you around the house,” he says in a smooth cadence.
I get the bizarre sense that he thinks I’m his honored guest, not his captive.