Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
His staff must be used to this, but I’m not. No one’s ever killed for me, yet Easton Van Buren didn’t think twice to make that decision. He rescued me from an even bigger threat, shaking up everything I thought I knew about him. Twisting my feelings for him until even I don’t recognize them anymore.
Am I truly thankful to this man who saved me from an even worse fate? Or is that the Stockholm Syndrome talking while one of his assistants undresses me?
“You’re so cold,” Jill says, peeling the bathrobe off my naked body and helping me into the tub. “This should warm you up nicely.”
I sit down in the hot water and clench my legs together while she throws my bathrobe into the laundry bag. I hope she sets the thing on fire. “Please … don’t bring that bathrobe back. Ever,” I say, and she looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “I don’t want to wear it ever again.”
“Oh … of course,” she says, adding a soft smile. “I can get you a new one. No problem.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to keep everything together. I’m still numb from what I just witnessed and experienced. Even as Jill leaves me alone for a second to take care of the bathrobe and grab new clothes for me, I can’t seem to let my guard down. I can’t break apart, not here in this house. Instead, I suck it up and push back the tears while staring wistfully at the wall in front of me.
Jill comes back and helps me wash. I don’t need the help, but my body is not responding to any of my commands either. It’s as though I’m nailed to the tub, to the heat circulating my body, trying to bring me back from the dead.
I almost escaped. Almost. And then I failed. Miserably.
The thought of how freedom literally slipped through my fingers breaks me physically, emotionally, and mentally. And on top of that, one of his guards tried to take advantage of me in the most despicable way. And then he died. Bang. One shot was all it took to end someone’s life, and Easton did it as if it meant nothing to him. For me.
A strange mixture of sadness, disgust, and serenity flows through my veins. Sadness for the death of that man who disgustingly tried to take me … and the serenity that followed when Easton came to my rescue.
Did he know I was there, or did he hear my cries? Could he have seen me escape? Is he upset that I did?
My brain takes a second to reboot, and I chastise myself for allowing Jill to pull me back into the mansion. I should’ve pushed her away, should’ve fought tooth and nail for my freedom, yet I went inside like a placid little lamb ready for slaughter. All because of the way Easton talked to me. With that smooth, bossy voice of his, he can make me do whatever he wants.
I shake my head and look away. I don’t want to see anyone right now, not even Jill. All I want is to be left alone, but she won’t let me. Of course not, not after I decided I was going to jump out the window. They’ll think twice before letting me out of their sight. Fuck. I should’ve thought of all this sooner and figured out a better plan.
“Do you hate it here that much?” Jill suddenly asks as she runs a sponge along my arms. When she reaches my hand, I pull back.
“I’m a prisoner,” I reply. “No one ever wants to have their freedom taken away.”
She bites her lip and continues to wash me despite my hesitance to open up to her. She’s his assistant, after all. She likes him, obeys him … can I even trust her? I have so many questions, and she’s the only one I can ask.
“Do you think he’ll punish me for trying to escape?”
She mulls it over for a few seconds while narrowing her eyes. “I don’t think so.” She pauses. “But he is mad at you, that I do know.”
I sigh out loud.
“Don’t worry. He’s not as cruel as you may think.”
“Right …” I reply.
She keeps glorifying him as if he’s so great, but she’s seen what he’s capable of too. Why does she think that’s all okay? Doesn’t she see the darkness in him?
“What about you? Why do you even help him do all of this? What do you gain?”
She sighs but smiles, nonetheless. “Mr. Van Buren helped me when I was in a tough position. I had nowhere to go, no one to ask for help, and he … took me in, and gave me a job and a place to stay. I owe him my life.” She clears her throat, and her cheeks flush a little. “If I have to be honest, I’m a little jealous of you.”