Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“You’re in love with Alarick; you’ve always been in love with Alarick. You don’t have to feel bad for that. Sometimes life doesn’t offer up what you want.” I should know.
I’ve been in the exact same boat as Mykel. I’ve loved someone who didn’t return that love. Even worse—he used me for it.
I shake the memory away and redirect my mind back to the here and now.
“He’ll get over it,” I assure her. “One day, he’ll move on.”
“Yeah, I know. I just feel so bad that he’s suffering now.”
I give her a sympathetic smile and then turn and glance at the large room. “This place—it’s incredible.”
“Yeah, he’s super lucky.”
Perhaps.
Or maybe living here haunts him more than anyone knows.
I guess I’ll find out.
“HI,” I SAY, PICKING up the phone and glancing around to make sure Mykel isn’t going to just barge into the room and ruin the fact that I’m talking to the one man they want dead, possibly more than anything in the world.
“How are you, sweetheart?”
Dax’s voice is smooth and masculine, and I can understand how women fall for his charms. He makes you feel safe and secure. Unlike most human traffickers, who use, abuse and beat the women they sell, Dax traffics in a way that’s smart and calculated, and keeps him flying under the radar.
He’s smarter than most people give him credit for.
“I’m not doing so well,” I lie, putting on my soft, innocent, broken voice. Gone is all the sass, and the smart attitude, and the strong woman.
When Dax is around, I put on my show. I act like a broken, damaged girl who needs him to fix all her broken pieces, just like the club ordered.
The only way I can bring information back to them, and help bring this man down, is to put on the best damned show of my life.
“What’s happened?” he asks.
“Well, my ex came around and he . . . he begged for me to come back. He had drugs, and I thought . . . I thought maybe we could make it work, but then I remembered what you said about having a better life, so I told him no and he lost it. He hit me.”
“He hit you?” Dax asks, sounding so genuinely pissed that it makes me angry, so damned angry, because he’s extremely good at what he’s doing.
“Yeah,” I say softly, my voice hoarse. “Only once. I kicked him out, but I think he’ll probably keep trying.”
“I think it’s best if you come and spend the night here, then. We don’t want you around if he does come back later. I’ve got a few people I want you to meet, and we’re having a nice dinner. What do you say?”
I hesitate, even though I know damn well I’m going to go. “I don’t know . . .”
“C’mon, honey. It’ll be great.”
“Okay,” I say. “I guess. What time?”
“Anytime you’re ready.”
“I’ll see you soon then.”
I hang up and put the phone down, exhaling. Even though it’s just an act, and I know what kind of monster lurks deep in Dax’s soul, talking to him is strangely . . . confusing. Just for a moment, I think he’s actually a nice man. I can see how easily he would manipulate someone who really was damaged.
I glance out the window, and then curse loudly when I realize what I’ve just done. I just told Dax I’d been hit. If I don’t go over there with a black eye, he’s going to get suspicious. I didn’t even think—I honestly didn’t even realize what I was saying until this moment. It made sense, and it was a good story but now I realize it was a damned stupid one.
God dammit.
You idiot, Waverly.
With a growl, I turn and walk out of the room and make my way down to the living area where Mykel is sitting with Samson. The two of them are discussing something, both wearing full colors, so no doubt they’re only here for a moment.
“I need one of you to hit me.”
Both of them turn and stare at me, heads tilted in confusion.
“I told Dax my ex-boyfriend hit me. I didn’t even think that I’d have to have evidence of that until he invited me over. If I go over and I don’t have a black eye, it’s going to look really, really bad and he’s going to catch on. So, I need one of you to hit me.”
“Yeah, that’s never goin’ to fuckin’ happen,” Samson mutters. “I do not hit women.”
“Neither do I,” Mykel murmurs.
“Though I’m sure you’ve thought about hitting me a few times,” I point out.
Mykel glares at me.
“Come on, if I don’t go over there with a bruise, they’re going to know I lied. It’ll blow the whole cover.”
“It’s dangerous—a man my size hittin’ a small woman like you. Could fuckin’ kill you. No way is it worth it.”