Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “I don’t want your money, Tyler. In fact, I don’t want to ever see you again. All I want is for you to let Mira go.”
Sweat is beading on his forehead. He wipes it with the back of his hand and nods anxiously. “Fine.” His voice is tight like an old spring. “You want Mira? Have her. You can tell her from me that the wedding is off.”
“I’m not telling her,” I reply, staring hard at him. He looks back at me like he wants me out of here now. I can’t blame him.
“You want…me to tell her?”
I nod. “That’s right.”
He glares back. Privileged bastard isn’t used to a confrontation like this. He’s wondering where his lawyers are, his fixers, his yes-men who can handle this situation for him.
Too bad for him that’s not happening.
“Fine, I’ll tell her.”
He moves to go, but I grab his wrist, stopping him. “Tell her what?”
His lips tighten. “That the wedding’s off.”
“Good.” I nod. “And if I ever see you sniffing around her again—”
“You won’t,” he snaps, grabbing his suit jacket, avoiding my gaze.
I let go of my hold on him and allow him to stand. I don’t move until he’s made his way outside. Only then do I take a deep breath, allowing the pressure in my chest to dissipate. I unclench my fist, and the rage inside me cools to a low simmer instead of the fierce boil it just was.
This isn’t over. Not by a mile. I still have Mira’s father to deal with, and possibly even her fear of the major life change facing her. But Tyler? He’s done for.
And that means she’s free.
My princess is mine.
All fucking mine.
8
MIRA
I’m sitting on my bike parked down the street from Mira’s. The Coolidge Estate. I’ve been parked here for hours, waiting, hands clenched on the handlebars, engine off and cold while my eyes are glued to the gates of the enormous manor.
There’s nothing subtle about the security detail. Two conspicuous guards in slick black suits with earbuds, vaping and chatting by the massive stone wall surrounding the property.
I shouldn’t be here.
But I can’t stay away.
Ever since I confronted Tyler at lunch and showed him the photo of him cheating on Mira, I’ve been on edge. He said he’d let her go—call off the wedding. But that was eight hours ago, and there’s still been no sign of him.
“Where are you, you son of a bitch…” I mutter under my breath. If that prick doesn’t show up and hold up his end of his bargain…
Honestly, that’s all I want him to do. I don’t want to take the photos public and drag Mira into some ridiculous scandal. I just want him to let her go so she can be where she truly belongs.
With me.
I take a deep breath and sigh. Looks like I’m gonna be here all night. But that’s when I see a black Aston Martin pull up to the house.
Tyler.
The guards recognize him and wave him through. I pull out my binoculars and watch through the gate as he parks, steps out, and storms in through the front door like he’d rather be anywhere else. Which is probably true.
He’s in there less than five minutes before he comes striding out again, suit jacket in one hand, cigarette in the other. He throws the door open to his car and slams it shut behind him. Even from where I’m parked, I can hear his tires squeal as he peels out and takes off, nearly running over the two guards as he speeds past.
I watch until his taillights vanish into the dark.
My insides clench up. Something primal and wild is waking up inside of me.
What did he say to her? Did he tell her what happened or just make up a story so he comes off as a victim? Did he even talk to her? Or was he just putting on an act, knowing I’d be out here watching?
I guess there’s only one way to know for sure.
I step off my bike and creep down the block, staying hidden in the shadows and out of the sight of the guards. Luckily, the Coolidge estate is enormous, and the wall surrounding the property extends down the street and around a curve. That’s where I go over.
Vines scratch my arms as I slide down and land silently in the grass. I pull my hood down, keeping my head low to avoid being seen by the cameras that no doubt litter the property, then make my way through the darkness toward the house.
Most of the lights are off, but there’s one still glowing on the left wing. It must be Mira’s. I wait until a shadow appears—a silhouette.
I recognize it instantly. It’s her.
Quickly, I scale a trellis and tap on the glass.
Then again, but harder.