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)
Suddenly, someone knocks on my door and enters. “Ma’am, you’re expected downstairs in a few. Please get ready.” It’s Nick, and he immediately closes the door again before I can respond.
Must be Easton wanting to see me again so he can bask in his victory. Fuck him. I’m not going. He can drag my ass out and rot in hell for all I care.
Or should I? Maybe I’d get a second chance at grabbing something sharp and stabbing him with it.
I don’t know why I keep resorting to these violent thoughts, but they excite me. And it feels better to think about killing him instead of having to constantly remind me how he throat fucked me like some kind of porn girl. And that some deep, devilish part inside me might’ve liked it.
I spit out the toothpaste and chuck the brush into the glass before exiting the bathroom. I come to a full screeching halt the moment I spot my favorite perfume on the makeup table. The same one I have at home.
“What the …?” I mutter as I approach the bottle.
This wasn’t here before. Did Nick leave it for me to find? Was this Easton’s idea? And how does he know so much about me? None of this makes any sense.
Seeing a note attached to the bottle, I take it off and read it.
Put this on plus a brightly colored dress. I want to show you off.
Easton
All thoughts about how awkward it is that he has this exact perfume sent to my chamber evaporate. Show me off? Are we going … out?
The mere thought of leaving this mansion and the property surrounding it makes my heart beat in my throat. I haven’t been out of here since the wedding, and I’ve been dying to go somewhere, anywhere, as long as it isn’t here.
I instantly forget everything I was doing, and I spritz some of my favorite perfume on my neck and the inside of my wrists. Then I open the closet and put on something new. A light pink maxi dress that ties around my neck. After I put it on, I check myself in the mirror. Perfect. Lightweight and not too flashy but enough to impress him … and easy to make a run for it in should the opportunity arise. Especially with these flats I’m putting on. If I find an opening, I’ll take it. No questions, no regrets, not a single thought.
And with that in mind, I exit the room and go downstairs.
Easton
When she walks downstairs, it’s like an angel descending from heaven. With her pink hair and light pink dress floating behind her, she’s like a dream come true to me. Everything about her is beautiful—from her pretty face to her petite body and killer legs.
Which is why I find it so hard to deny her the very things she loves. The things she craves, and the freedom she wishes for so badly.
I want to give it to her, but on my own terms and in my own time.
When we parted ways this morning, I knew she’d be mad at me for not giving her what she wanted at the moment. But I couldn’t give her that because then it would give her the impression she’s in control. I’m the one who decides when something happens and when I want to give something of value to her, and that moment is right now.
I hold out my arm and wait until she hooks hers through it before walking her out the door like a true gentleman. I know I can be an asshole, but I’m also her husband, and I will treat her like a princess when it’s appropriate.
We walk to my car, and I help her get inside before closing the door. She glares at me as I go to the other side of the car and sit down beside her. By the time I’ve buckled up, my driver has already started the car and driven off.
She keeps glaring at me as if she’s seen an alien or I’ve said something to her that shocked her to the bone.
I push the button to close off the front of the car to the back of the car so we can have some privacy. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she mutters, averting her eyes.
I frown. “You’re looking at me …”
“I can’t look at you now?” she scoffs.
“You can.” I grab her chin and turn her head. “But not like that. Like you’re hiding something or think I’m the worst man in the entire world.”
“You are,” she says, smirking at her own savviness.
I lick my lips at her comment. “Worse than your father, who sold you to the first bidder?”
Her nostrils flare, and she looks away, blinking heavily. I know I touched on a sore point there, but it’s the truth, and she knows it. Her father couldn’t care less about her, explaining why she’s become such a stuck-up princess. Always trying to grab his attention and then right her wrongs when he wasn’t pleased. Her whole life revolved around making her family happy.