Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Formidable how? Lucien said his family owns hospitals.”
“His family owns underground hospitals, my dear. A concierge medical practice to the mob, criminal syndicates, crime families, and gangs of America. Giving new faces, plucking out bullets, and keeping no records. Every psychopath in the country knows the name Calais.”
I dropped my whisk, gaping at him.
“Good news,” Rafael said, beaming. “He’s got access to all the black-market blood he wants.”
My stomach twisted. “And Wilder?”
“In a world full of locks, the man with the key reigns supreme. The guy can get into any system, through every passcode, and behind any firewall. The shit he’s seen made him paranoid enough to stockpile an armory that’ll scare you worse than a few bombs on my bed.” He clicked his tongue. “So as crazy as I know you think he is, I wouldn’t dismiss him so quickly.”
“You mean there really is a man-made virus that makes you bleed from all orifices?”
It was his turn to shrug.
“Okay,” I cried. “Let’s end the conversation here while I still have an appetite and a chance for a good night’s sleep.”
I got on with breakfast, whipping up scrambled eggs, avocado toast, and oatmeal with brown sugar and apple bits. Competing with Rafael’s breakfast pushed me to up my game.
“Aha!” I set out the plates before Rafael and Cato who wandered down while I was halfway done. Wilder leaned on the counter, clocking my twitches, and Lucien stood by the other end of the table, drinking that red drink. “Sass that, Rafael.”
“Looks delicious,” he said, giving me that crooked smile. Goose bumps rippled down my back as he grasped my hand, kissing my knuckles. Memory transported me to the night before—his lingering kisses and the feel of him holding me as we danced. “If moving you in grants me this kind of gratitude, what do I get for walking you to and from class, guarding that lovely person?”
I have a deal with my fiancé. I have a deal with my fiancé. I have a deal with my fiancé.
“You get absolutely nothing.”
“Ah.” He jerked his chin. “Then Cato can do it.” Rafael reached for his fork.
“You’re not seriously going to eat that,” Wilder said. “Did you watch her the whole time? Who knows what she put in that?”
“Salt and pepper,” I spoke up.
“Like you’d admit it if you slipped in something else.”
Thus kicked off an argument about micro-cyanide packets, and how I’d never heard of such a thing, so how could I have snuck it in the food? At one point, Wilder gave me another pat-down, running his hands down my ass for an early morning groping. It was hard to call it sexual, since he berated me the entire time, swearing he was onto me.
Eventually, I escaped upstairs, grabbed my backpack, and headed out to my first class.
Morning dew sprinkled the blades, collecting on the soles of my wedges and giving my toes wet kisses. I inhaled a deep, steady breath—buoying on the fresh, clean air. Wilder informed me the air in the Gallery was filtered and recycled, so any attempt on my part to pump knockout gas through the vents would fail.
“Again, so much crazy in one handsome package.”
Footsteps sounded behind me. I caught Cato as he loped out of the house, a black rose muzzle riding his face.
“Wait. You guys were serious about stalking me?”
He dipped his head.
“I don’t need guarding. Owen and the bastard brigade ambushed me. It won’t happen again, and it definitely won’t happen in broad daylight in the middle of the atrium. You can go back inside.”
Cato didn’t move an inch.
Stifling a groan, I tried a deep breath instead. “What will it take to convince you?”
“You’re mine.” His voice was muffled and those words still came through loud and clear. “I’m going with you.”
“We really need to discuss the definition of ‘mine’ and how it does not apply in our relationship?”
Cato scooped me shrieking over his shoulder and strode off.
“Cato, put me down! Put me down right now.”
He could’ve been carrying a sack of books for all the attention he gave my squawking. Lucien warned his behavior was unpredictable. Was that the word for gifting a necklace I was ninety-eight percent certain he ripped off a neck, and carting me around campus like a sack of flour?
My demands fell on unbothered ears as we joined the bustle of early morning campus, gathering stares the farther we went. I didn’t know if Cato was paying attention to the remarks following us, but I was.
“Isn’t she engaged to Victor Wilson?”
“Dipping that gold digger’s shovel in the Dumont fortune too.”
“Good luck,” a nasty voice replied. “The insane don’t inherit.”
I tapped Cato’s back. “Please, put me down. I’ve accepted my fate.”
He set me on my feet, letting me fix my dress, and give those girls a lethal glare. Once again, I’d never seen them before in my life, yet they were comfortable running their mouth.