Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
The car doesn’t arrive early like I was hoping, and he finds me outside waiting near the valet stand.
“Leighton,” he huffs on a sigh as he approaches, his tone making it sound like I’m being unreasonable.
“Mr. Ward,” I return, my eyes focused on my phone.
I owe the man nothing, and that’s exactly what he’ll get.
He doesn’t try again, and thankfully the car arrives. We don’t speak as we ride to the airport or as we make it through security. He doesn’t hover or attempt to place his palm on my back. It’s like he knows I’m a ticking time bomb, and he’s being cautious. I’ve also spent enough time with him to know that he’s biding his time, waiting until what he thinks is the right moment to broach the subject. I know it won’t be to ask for forgiveness. He’s waiting to make sure I know to use discretion. He doesn’t want his colleagues to know about what happened.
I can’t imagine Deacon isn’t suspicious with my behavior that first day at the office from the way I acted when I stormed out of there, but the man is so protective of his family, I can’t see him being okay with a man on his team cheating repeatedly on his wife.
We settle on the airplane, taking off right on time, and when I hear him sigh, I know what’s coming. I glare at him, daring him to open his mouth. He looks away, and the flight is spent in complete silence, him with his eyes facing forward and me stewing in guilt and animosity for the entire world.
The hired car at the airport in St. Louis doesn’t take me back to the hotel I was staying at before flying to California but to the hotel I met him in to begin with. Instead of arguing, I decide that I can just get out of the car and catch a cab to a different place. It beats having to argue with him about it. Wasting my breath on him isn’t worth it. Only he doesn’t stay in the car like I expect him to.
As if he knows I have no intention of going back to New York for the weekend, he strides inside, takes his company-issued credit card from his wallet, and reserves a room in my name. He doesn’t hand me the room key when the desk clerk offers it to him, and it makes me so angry I can feel the heat in the tops of my ears and on my cheeks. I’m seconds away from losing my shit right in the lobby of this five-star hotel.
He gives me a passive look before turning away from me, heading toward the bank of elevators. I follow him because murder is looking like the perfect way to spend my afternoon. Not for the first time, we ride the elevator in this hotel together, only this time it’s filled with hatred, bitterness, and disgust. I keep my eyes on my feet, unable to even stomach the sight of him in the mirrored walls.
He walks off the elevators without looking back. He knows I’m going to follow him, and to make things even worse, he unlocks the door, pushing it open as he stands to the side so I can enter first. I stomp inside, hating that my suitcase doesn’t run over the tips of his expensive shoes. I’m not above stomping on the damn thing again.
“You can leave now,” I snap, shoving my suitcase until the thing tips over and crashes to the floor. The thick carpet keeps it from making the angry noise I was hoping for.
“You may not want to talk to me, but you’re going to fucking listen,” he says, his voice low and angry.
I swallow. I’ve been angry with this man almost every second since I’ve met him, but not until this very second have I ever been afraid. Gooseflesh crawls over my skin, my eyes darting to the door as I assess the situation. He’s blocking my path of escape. I’d have to jump on the bed to get past him, and that would be impossible in these shoes.
He must sense my unease because he takes a step back, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
But then something snaps in him, and I’m pinned against the wall. I turn my head when he leans in close.
“Look at me.”
I obey, hoping that it will help his anger, only to find that gold band right in front of my face. Tears begin to track down my face, and the guilt I’ve felt all day would double me over if his body wasn’t holding me up.
“I’ve done a lot of fucked-up things in my life.” He swallows. “I’ve been a complete asshole to many women. I was a complete asshole to you that first night. I saw you lying in that fucking bed with little hearts in your eyes, all fucking sexed-up and needy. You looked like you wanted me to stay in bed with you forever. So, I pulled this ring out of my pocket and fed you some bullshit about a wife and kids. You want to know why?”