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)
"I can go in and collect your things," Twisted offers when he spots me in the back seat, looking out the window with minor trepidation.
"You just want to go through my underwear drawer," I tease before I can think about what I'm saying.
I've always been flirty, and it hasn't occurred to me until recently, especially after my conversation with Kaylee this morning, that I, at minimum, give guys hope when there isn't any. In some cases, I literally flirt hard enough that they begin to show signs of obsession.
"Sorry," I say, noticing the smile beginning to spread across his face.
When his cheeks cave with disappointment, I know I'm going to have to have a conversation with him sooner rather than later.
"I'll go in and clear the house," Whiskey says as he pulls open the driver's side door. "Give you guys a chance to talk."
I scowl at the man as he winks at me through the back driver's side window before circling behind the vehicle and walking toward the front door.
I should be concerned that he didn't even have to ask me for the code to get into the house, but I imagine it's something that Robert supplied him with. I make a mental note to change the code before coming back here.
Robert mentioned Henry always being a step ahead of him their entire lives where his games and taunting were concerned. So there's no doubt that Henry also has access to my door codes and will probably always have the ability to get in whenever he feels like it.
I now understand why Kaylee was so adamant about staying at the villa rather than returning here. At this moment, sitting outside my own house, I have no desire to ever come back. Hell, I'm not even sure I really want to go inside.
I keep my eyes on the front door, hoping Twisted doesn't speak. I don't want to be mean to the man, and I already feel like crap for flirting with him only moments ago.
"You know you're safe with us, right?" he asks, shifting in his seat so he can look in my direction.
I regret sitting behind Whiskey instead of Twisted because it gives the latter the perfect angle to watch me.
"I know," I tell him. "I didn't think it would be so hard to come back here."
"Your sanctuary has been violated. That's an awful thing to have to deal with. Had all of this happened elsewhere, it would've been bad, but it's always worse when victimization happens in the home. It's understandable for you to be upset."
I dip my head in understanding, doing my best not to give in to the sting of tears behind my eyes. I've always considered myself a strong woman. I don't cry at the drop of a hat.
"I can't believe I picked someone who would want to hurt me," I whisper, clearing my throat when it grows weaker at the end of the declaration.
"That's the whole thing, Morgan," he says, his hand pressing into the driver's side seat as if he's trying to resist reaching for me.
I appreciate the fact that he doesn't.
"You didn't pick him. He picked you and then he played the perfect part in being exactly who you were looking for at the time. You did nothing wrong."
"I can't wait for all of this to be over," I mutter, reaching for the doorknob when Whiskey walks back out on the front porch and gives us a thumbs-up.
I climb out of the SUV, not wanting to go inside but also feeling relieved not to be in the vehicle with Twisted any longer than I have to be.
I feel more than a little vulnerable, and I don't want to fall into old habits and seek comfort in a man I don't feel any real connection to just for the temporary relief it would provide.
"Ready?" he asks as he steps up beside me.
"I guess," I say, stepping toward the porch.
Thankfully, he maintains a little distance as I climb the front steps, although he bumps me slightly when I halt just inside the door without warning.
"It's so clean," I say, looking around the open floor plan home.
"We supervised a cleaning company to come in like we said," Twisted explains. "We also inventoried everything the caterers left with that night so you could go over the list and make sure you weren't missing anything."
"Thank you," I tell him. "That was very thoughtful."
"Was there anything you needed down here on the first floor?" Whiskey asks, and I can tell he wants to get this show on the road.
I shake my head, grateful that they're here to accompany me. Had I come back alone, I wouldn’t have been brave enough to step inside the front door.
"Take your time," Twisted says, and I look up just in time to see him shoot an annoyed look at Whiskey.