Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“I’m not going to pee if you can hear everything!” She turned the water on. I stretched out on one of the bunks, wondering what the attackers were doing upstairs. Undoubtedly trying to get down here. Why hadn’t Father thought of installing monitors down here that were linked to cameras on the premises?
The door opened and Stella stepped out. My heart skipped a beat. What the holy fuck was she wearing? I sat up slowly, wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me. Stella was in some kind of flimsy red negligee made of thin silky material. It only reached her upper thighs and clung to her breasts. Fuck.
Stella shifted on her feet, her face turning red under my scrutiny. “Only my mother would choose this as her nightwear for a lockdown situation. The clothes in my drawer are a few years old and don’t fit me anymore.”
I barely registered her words. Most of my blood had left my brain. Of course, I’d noticed Stella’s curves before, but having them shoved into my face like this, it would definitely stir up a whole new onslaught of dirty fantasies I had absolutely no business entertaining.
I pushed to my feet and headed over to the drawer with my clothes, ripping it open with a bit too much force. I pulled out a T-shirt and boxer shorts and flung them at Stella. She barely caught them, her eyes wide in surprise.
“Here. Put that on. It’ll be more comfortable than that thing.”
As if Stella’s comfort had anything to do with my need to cover her with one of my T-shirts.
Hurt flickered in her expression, catching my half-functioning brain by surprise. I didn’t get the chance to analyze the look because she whirled around and returned to the bathroom.
Stella
I clutched the clothes to my chest, stunned by the wave of disappointment I felt. At first, when I’d realized I’d have to wear my mother’s ridiculous negligee I had been embarrassed, but after putting it on, I’d secretly been excited about Mauro’s reaction.
I hadn’t expected him to look almost appalled. Trying not to take this to heart was difficult, even when I should have been relieved. Mauro’s reaction was normal. Mine wasn’t. He acted like a stepbrother should.
I peeled out of the negligee and got into Mauro’s clothes. The shorts hung very low on my hips and the T-shirt reached mid-thigh. Taking a deep breath, I emerged again, determined to get a grip and stop seeing anything more than family in Mauro.
I couldn’t read the look Mauro gave me. It was only a few minutes past seven, but I felt tired. I’d barely slept last night, and I wasn’t sure if I’d get any sleep tonight. It had been silent above our heads for a while now.
“Do you think they are gone?” I asked as I headed over to Mauro’s bunk where he sat hunched over a semi-automatic from the rifle cabinet behind the ladder, putting it back together after dismantling it.
He glanced up, his eyes dragging over my body in a way that sent a little shiver down my spine. Did his gaze linger on my bare legs?
Do not go there…
“I doubt it. They could be taking apart room after room in search of something useful. Like the code to this room.”
My eyes widened.
Mauro shook his head. “It’s not written down anywhere. Only Father and I know it, as well as a few trustworthy men.”
I sank down beside Mauro and his body became taut. I mourned the fact that he’d put on a shirt. Our eyes met, and I held my breath, not even sure why. Something in Mauro’s brown eyes sent a spear of longing through my body.
“Aren’t you tired?” he asked. His voice held a strange note.
“I am,” I admitted. My eyes burned from lack of sleep and the dry air down here.
“Why don’t you take the bed over there?” He nodded toward the bunk across from his.
“Do you want to get rid of me?” My joke backfired because Mauro didn’t laugh.
He focused on the gun, and his lack of a reply was all the answer I needed. “I need to check the remaining guns to make sure we have enough firepower.”
I stood. I didn’t want to push myself on Mauro when he obviously wanted to be alone. Hiding my disappointment, I slipped under the blanket in the narrow bunk. The coarse material was cold and smelled faintly of disuse. I rolled over, away from Mauro, needing privacy.
The click of him working on the guns rang in the panic room. It wasn’t what kept me awake, not even the light—which he dimmed a bit later. My thoughts whirred in my head. Thoughts about Mauro, about my feelings for him, about the men in the house, about their horrible motives. And worry that Mauro’s and my relationship would be even worse off after this. It felt as if something was shifting between us—again.