Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Trust me,” Six said, “you’re more than safe here.”
I nodded to the guards, and they stepped back and turned to go.
“You’re leaving?” Corey asked them.
“They have other assignments.”
He turned back to look at me. “Oh, so you do talk?”
I glared at him.
“I didn’t mean that like…I mean, if you couldn’t talk, it would be fine. We’d just have to figure out how to communicate.”
“I prefer to communicate as little as possible.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay. I like to talk, so you won’t really need to do much to hold up your end of the conversation.”
“I don’t like to listen either.” How was I going to survive weeks—months—with this man living in my house? He hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d stepped inside.
I motioned for him to follow me.
“Should I bring my things?”
I nodded, then turned around. The squeak of his suitcase wheels let me know he was behind me. I shuddered at the thought of what they might do to my antique hardwoods.
When we reached the guest room where he would be staying, I opened the door and motioned for him to enter.
“Wow,” he said, looking around the room. It had a four-poster bed with a dark gray comforter and plenty of pillows piled on it. The room was decorated in a lighter shade of the same gray and a rich cream. There was a desk with an upholstered rolling chair, and a chaise lounge in a cream and floral pattern by the window.
“This is amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed anywhere so fancy.”
I knew I should acknowledge the compliment, but after forcing myself to walk up the stairs, my head was aching. My vision had become spotty at the edges. The last thing I wanted was to tell him I had to lie down.
“Is there anyone else staying here?” He looked hopeful, which I suppose made sense. Who would want to be saddled with me for God knew how long?
“No.”
“So you don’t have a wife or…?”
He must not know my relationship to Lisa. “My ex-wife better not come anywhere near this house.”
Corey grinned, and I realized I’d raised my voice, dropping my cold facade. How did he already have me riled up?
“There is no one else here except my housekeeper, who comes in for the day. Unpack and settle in. I have business to attend to. Later, I’ll call you to my office and go over the rules with you.” At least there I could sit down and stop pretending it was comfortable to stand.
“Rules?”
“If I’m going to protect you, then there will be rules.”
Did he think I was going to just let him run wild here? Did he think this was a joke? He could be locked up in a safe house with bare walls, guards at the door, and someone dropping off disgusting fast food. He needed to be more appreciative of what he had.
Corey’s smile faltered for the first time as he set his bag on the floor next to his suitcase. Was he finally starting to understand that this wasn’t going to be fun and games?
I didn’t have time to babysit. I’d protect his life if he were in danger. I’d ignore the pain I felt, no matter how bad it was that day. I would keep him safe, but I wasn’t here to entertain him. I didn’t even like my own family in my house, much less a stranger. He was only here because I was responsible for him and all the rest of Lisa’s victims.
3
COREY
Mr. Marchesi closed the door behind him. I shivered as I stood staring at the spot where he’d been and listening to his uneven gait as he retreated down the hall.
Damn, he was hot. Talk about a silver fox. And the scars on his face made him even sexier, in a dangerous way. I’d been warned he wasn’t talkative, but no one had prepared me for how turned on I was going to be around him.
What had given him the scars? Why was he so cold, and how deep did his frostiness go? It would be a shame if a man who looked that fucking good was cold all the way through, not that it would do me any good. He clearly didn’t want me here, and it was safest to assume he was straight.
He had given me a thorough once-over. I’d caught that, but he was probably just assessing whether he thought I’d be any use in a fight. I wouldn’t be, but I wasn’t sure if he could tell that. I hit the gym regularly, but I’d never hit a person, and I sure as hell hadn’t used a gun. Mr. Marchesi looked like he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot a man in the face if he needed to—or wanted to.
I pulled out my phone and typed his name in my internet browser. Dominic Marchesi. He even sounded dangerous.