Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Yet, hoping my twin brother would change has gotten me nowhere.
I'm always his target, the mark in his game of retribution, but that doesn't keep him from hurting others to get to me.
I've kept from getting close to others because I knew that put them in his line of sight.
Morgan Spence is on both of our radars and as good as she feels in my arms, I have no way of knowing if she's there because she wants to be or if she's just another pawn in one of his deadly games
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Morgan
Parties are supposed to be fun, especially Halloween parties where everyone is dressed to the nines in fancy costumes and looking fabulous.
I went to great lengths to make this party a success. I needed chic and fabulous, something the attendees would talk about until next year's party.
There are no ridiculous costumes in the place. Everyone was instructed to... Is that a fucking blow-up dinosaur on the dance floor?
I grind my teeth, about ready to tell the guy following me with a spotlight to fuck off. It's making me sweat, and I can already tell my face is getting oily. In hindsight, the spotlight guy was probably a bad idea, and I make a mental note not to do the same next year.
Just the thought of another one of these parties makes my skin crawl. My dream would be to set these up for other people rather than be the center of attention when the night finally arrives. Doing both has left me wishing I hadn't taken this on. By the time it came time for the party, I was so exhausted I just wanted a nap.
I run my hand down my custom-made dress, making sure the fabric isn't shifting out of place. I look fabulous, and it's not just ego to think that way. I'm turning heads, and it's more than grateful looks from people happy to have been invited. They're literally staring at me, but I'm having a hard time keeping a smile on my face. My makeup team had to use more concealer than normal under my eyes today.
I know a lot of my worry stems from the argument I had with the guy I met a few weeks ago. The sex was fantastic, but the super clingy love bombing he did made my skin crawl.
I'm terrified he's going to show up tonight and make a scene or do something to try and ruin all my hard work.
I just don't get men who don't understand the word no. They think that arguing or explaining just how great they are means women are required to give them a second chance, as if our own thoughts, needs, and expectations mean nothing. If a man wants it, he should have it, and it's as simple as that.
As if my night couldn't get any worse with the damn dinosaur costume, I spot, of all things, a fucking eggplant swaying to the music on the dance floor.
Having enough, I begin to walk in that direction, my spotlight man struggling to keep up. He runs into my back when I suddenly pause, the woman the man is dancing with coming into view.
Kaylee looks like a princess in her wedding dress costume, and the smile lighting up her face tells me exactly who the man is. I don't recall another moment where I've seen my best friend so incredibly happy, and it pulls the first genuine smile of the night from my lips as I approach.
She seems too wrapped up in dancing to turn to face me, but eventually, she shares her attention with me.
"Is this your dick of a husband?" I ask with a smirk.
"Morgan, this is Ellis. Ellis, meet my ex-best friend."
"Nice to meet you," he says, holding out his hand.
I shake his hand but a flash of something to the far right of the room distracts me momentarily.
"Are you here to win her over or break her heart more?" I manage through my distraction.
"Win her over," he answers easily.
"You're a good guy in my book," I tell him, knowing he has to be from the smile I saw on her face moments ago. "Take good care of her."
I leave them to their night, darting away as quickly as possible to find the person I just saw wearing a dress similar to mine. Of course, I didn't put limitations on people's costumes, although after the eggplant and dinosaur, I imagine I may have to next year. But the chances were slim that someone would also dress like Cruella de Vil.
I lose her in the crowd of people, stopping in my tracks when I feel a warm hand land on my forearm.
My fake smile back in place, I turn toward the guest, wanting to scratch her eyes out.
"Margo," I say, looking at my former college dormmate. "So glad you could make it."
We attended the University of Las Vegas, where I graduated with a degree in finance, and she left her senior year because she found a husband, which, come to find out, was really her only goal.
"It looks like the company I suggested did an amazing job for you," she says as she looks around the room.
I barely refrain from scoffing. The company she suggested was trash, and I had to fire them after realizing they had no real idea what they were doing. I've wondered more than once if she suggested them because she knew how terrible they were or if her standards for a party are just much lower than mine.