Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
How was this now her life?
She moved into the sitting room with deliberate care, aware of the long skirts swishing around her ankles. For the first time ever. She’d been too embarrassed to admit to Emily that she’d never worn a formal gown before.
But she could plan a crop rotation within an inch of its life, using color coded spreadsheets. She loved to plan and organize. In fact, every drawer in the house was organized and color coded. There was nothing she loved more than a drawer organizer. Well, maybe the glass jars in the kitchen pantry that she’d labeled so neatly.
Solomon had chosen the room for tea, a decision she still couldn’t understand, and the longer she stood there, the less at home she felt. The pale walls reflected too much light. The furniture was arranged for display rather than use, and the lace curtains filtered the day into something thin and distant.
Or maybe that was just because Emily and Philip had left. Probably.
Handmade doilies covered the side table. The room belonged to a world Nadia had never lived in and didn’t trust, and standing in it alone made her feel watched rather than welcomed.
She crossed to the table and poured from the antique china set, adjusting her grip when the weight pulled against her wrist. The movement sent a dull ache through her back and down into her hips, where the silver still lingered in her system.
Yeah, Bulwark had stabbed her with a silver knife, intending to kill her. Now she had to have tea with him.
Unreal.
She shifted her stance and finished pouring, setting the pot down carefully before straightening. The silver should be out of her system in a couple more weeks.
The first knock came sharp and sudden, cutting cleanly through her thoughts. When the door opened, Bulwark McGregor stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on her. Her spine stiffened. He shut the door behind him, and the air seemed to thicken as he moved closer, his presence filling the space.
“You look well.” He rested one hand on the back of the brocade chair across from her.
“You look like a mistake that keeps repeating,” she replied, her tone even.
His mouth curved. “I enjoy your fire.”
She gestured to his chair and then took her seat, keeping her movements measured and precise. For a brief moment, a darker thought surfaced. She became aware of the space between them. What if she just sliced his neck? What a shock it would be to the pack if she killed all five challengers.
Yeah, that made her smile.
Violence had never been where she crossed lines, and she knew that hadn’t changed, no matter how much pressure surrounded her.
“You have a pretty smile,” he said.
“I want you dead.”
He reached for the cup and drank it down without hesitation. “I believe I apologized for stabbing you.”
“You stabbed a female in the back, Bulwark. That makes you the worst kind of coward.”
“I was hired to do a job. It was necessary,” he said, apparently unconcerned. “Turned out it’s a good thing you lived. Everything worked out.”
She studied him for a moment before tilting her head, taking in the ease with which he spoke. No way would she let this guy win. Not just for herself, but for the entire pack. He lacked a moral compass. Yeah, she needed to dig into his head. “What happened between you and Caidrik?”
His gaze sharpened. “Don’t worry about Caidrik. My brother will soon be dead.”
“Half-brother,” she corrected. “You’re built the same and definitely look alike. Why are you willing to kill each other?”
Bulwark set the cup onto the saucer with a sharp clatter. “None of your business. Learn your place now. Life will be easier for you.”
Stabbing him held even more appeal for her. She lifted her own cup and took a sip, letting the soft flavor steady her breathing and smooth the edge of her nerves. The tea grounded her and kept her present. “I hate you,” she said. “You hate me. You already have a pack. Go do your own thing.”
“This is my thing,” he replied. “My pack isn’t large enough, and we don’t have the resources of the Slate Pack. This pack is wealthy. Very. I want the money, and I will win. Accept that. If you don’t, next time I won’t miss with the knife.”
She blinked, her body going cold. The silver slugged through her veins. He’d just threatened to kill her.
He shoved the chair back and walked out, the door closing behind him and leaving the house in heavy silence.
A moment later, Solomon entered and quietly replaced the cup and saucer, his movements careful. “You’re doing well,” he said softly.
Nadia kept her gaze on the table, her hands still, and said nothing.
Luca Cross entered through the door wearing a smile that belonged on a politician, or possibly a conman. The difference between the two males was obvious. His charm settled easily over him, practiced and polished, and once again she found herself responding to it.