Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
You’re no ball of sunshine, yourself.
“Have you sat her down in front of our contract?” the other man asked.
There was a contract.
“Not yet. Locked her in her room overnight to tire her out.”
“Ransom!” the man chided, chuckling.
Ransom? Really? What a bad-ass name for a world-class prick. Couldn’t he be Earl or Norman?
“You can’t take a page out of Moruzzi’s book. You ain’t in Kansas anymore.”
Who was Moruzzi?
“She tried to stab me with a bottle. Then called the police.”
“On herself?”
“On me. Brat doesn’t have two gray brain cells to rub together.”
My scalp stung, as if the insult had been poured over me.
Not much offended me at this stage in my life—I’d been called everything under the sun by the press, and by my own sister, too. But it always hurt when people called me stupid.
Maybe because I believed them. I felt so lost, so in over my head.
The other person laughed a hearty, good laugh. He sounded like a genuinely nice person, which surprised me, because he was in business with a sociopath. “You’re getting your fair share of female drama for the first time in your life, and I’m here for it, Ran.”
“I’ll bring the bitch to heel,” Ransom clipped out.
“I’ll make some popcorn in the meantime.”
“She’ll be defanged, declawed, and wearing a collar long before the microwave pings.”
The air got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. The man was so cruel, so unbearably callous. I’d dealt with bodyguards before. But only for decorative purposes. He’d been right about them—they existed solely for the clout and as stand-in photographers for random Instagram opportunities.
This man actually had power over my life. A frightening amount of it. And it sounded like he couldn’t wait to abuse it.
After he was done making fun of me, I heard Ransom’s footsteps ascending the floating stairway. I held my breath. He unlocked the door from the outside. He shoved it open halfway, but stayed firmly outside, knowing he wasn’t invited. I froze into clay. Even after he’d explained that he was my so-called protector, everything about him made the hair on my arms stand on end.
“Are you decent?” he asked gruffly.
“Why? It hasn’t stopped you before,” I spat out, before sighing. “Yeah, I am.”
“That’s refreshing.” He pushed the door open, propping a shoulder against its frame.
I decided to greet him by clutching the first thing I could grab on my nightstand and hurling it across the room at him with force. Ransom caught it effortlessly, an inch before it hit his nose. He tilted my Magic Wand—unwashed—here and there. A cocky sneer smeared across his haunting face.
“Not my first choice for a weapon, but it beats the banana in Scary Movie.”
I huffed to cover the embarrassment. Pain and shame swirled in the pit of my stomach like eels. “Give it back to me. That was a mistake.”
He must have thought I was a sex maniac. Just another rumor I’d never bothered to correct. According to the tabloids, I’d gone to bed with more than twenty Hollywood heartthrobs. No one, not even Keller, knew the truth.
That I was still a virgin.
That I’d never even gone on a date.
Not a real one, anyway.
Ransom tossed my vibrator behind his shoulder, ignoring my request. “Make sure you charge it often, because like I said, no boys under this roof while I’m here. Sleep well?” He moved along my room like a demon, seeming to hover over the floor. He flung open all the curtains. Natural light spilled into the room.
Not a vampire, then.
“None of your business.”
He tsked. “Where are your manners, princess?”
I was about to tell him they were hiding in whatever hole his decency had crawled up into, when he raised a manila file in the air, boomeranging it my way.
“My company’s contract. Read it.”
I tossed it on my nightstand, unblinking. “Sorry, my literary taste runs more sophisticated.”
“I wouldn’t believe that even if there wasn’t a copy of the National Enquirer on your nightstand.”
Touché. I’d only bought it because they’d published a nip-slip picture of mine that looked altered. No matter how bad it seemed, though, one thing was for sure—Ransom looked like a predator, but not the kind who wanted to eat me whole. The way he looked at me, with such disinterest, told me there was no way he was going to try to touch me in a sexual way.
I examined my fingernails with boredom. “I might skim it in my spare time if you play your cards right.”
“You’ll read it now.” His glacial steeliness made my skin pebble. “Aloud. We need to discuss the details.”
My heart stopped inside my chest. I felt like I was about to throw up. I couldn’t read it aloud. I also couldn’t tell him that. What kind of kick would he get from knowing the truth about me? Had Dad even made him sign an NDA? Of course he had. He would never risk having the truth about his daughter come out.