Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
I look at my glass. But wine can.
I need to feel that familiar numbness.
I sniff, wiping my eyes, and get to my feet with effort, heading for the kitchen as I neck it, but a light thump on my front door pulls me to a stop on the threshold, and I look at the ceiling, taking in air.
Finding strength.
I go to the door and push my forehead into the wood. “I can’t take anymore today,” I say quietly through the wood.
“And I can’t leave knowing what tomorrow is,” Dec replies softly. “Open the door, Camryn.”
My lip wobbles, and I bite down on it viciously to stop it. Tomorrow. The nineteenth of December. Three years since Noah died. “Go away,” I murmur, squeezing my eyes closed, rolling my head on the wood.
“No.”
“Leave me alone.”
“No.” His soft thud on the door vibrates through my head. “I will never leave you alone, Camryn.” Another thud. “Do you hear what I’m saying to you?”
I’m hearing. And I don’t want to believe it. It would be dangerous to believe it. He lied to me. I push my palm into the wood and lift my head with effort, taking the knob and pulling the door open, finding Dec standing on the other side, tall and impassive.
And painfully beautiful.
“Can I come in?” he asks quietly.
“You lied to me.”
“No, Camryn, I didn’t lie. I just didn’t give you the full picture.” The sincerity in his eyes is hard to ignore. “I didn’t need you to tell me Thomas’s son and wife were spending money like it might melt if they didn’t. I didn’t need you to tell me money burns a hole in Thomas Fryer’s pocket. I’m buying his company. I’m a businessman. I have forensic accountants looking into every company I’m interested in, so I know what’s going on. I know if there are holes, if accounts are manipulated, if I’m being given a pile of bullshit to elevate the price. When I saw you in that bar the night we met, I didn’t know who you were.” He wedges his hands into the doorframe either side and leans into it, coming closer but keeping a respectable distance. “When I realised, I was in too deep already.”
“I told you on our first walk the night I met you.”
“I was in too deep already,” he repeats softly, shrugging.
My stupid lip wobbles. “You should have told me.”
“I know.” The veins in his neck bulge. “I know I should have told you. But I didn’t. That’s on me. I fucked up, Camryn.”
“You’ve bought the company my ex-husband works for too.”
He definitely withdraws in surprise. “What company?”
“Cloisters.”
“There’s nothing in that except good business sense. How do you know that?”
“Because he was here when the police showed up earlier. They told me you’d filed a report.”
“You were assaulted, Camryn. It needs to be on record.”
“That was for me to decide.”
“I disagree.” He releases the door and takes one step over the threshold.
Everything inside me turns heavy. Or heavier. I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with this. I don’t have the energy to challenge him.
“Because when you love someone,” he goes on, “you do everything in your power to keep them safe.” He holds his hands out, asking me to accept him, and I let out a ragged sob. Hope is teasing me again. But is Dec my destiny? Does that make my hope less of a burden? “And I love you bone fucking deep, woman. Every broken, beautiful piece of you.”
Emotion makes my hand shake as I lift it for him, and the moment I do, he pushes the door closed behind him, sets my glass aside, and lifts me into his arms, carrying me to my bedroom.
When I saw you in that bar the night we met, I didn’t know who you were. When I realised, I was in too deep already.
He could have simply walked away today. But he came to me. He knew I needed the truth, and he came to me and told me. He knew I needed comfort—him—and he came to me.
And now? I have to forgive him. I have to trust him, believe him. I’m taking everything he wants to give me, because I know I can’t do the next twenty-hours alone.
And because I love him.
I love him deeply.
Once he’s set me on my feet, he starts stripping himself down to nothing before he starts on me. And I watch. Quiet, so fucking thankful he’s here. He pulls my vest up my body, lifting my arms with it, and my hair tumbles around my shoulders as he casts it aside and turns me around so my back’s to him. My bra loosens, falling down my arms, and I watch it drop to my feet as Dec slips his fingers into the sides of my knickers and crouches, drawing them slowly down my legs. “Step out,” he orders gently. I do as I’m bid and turn back to face him. Naked. Both of us. Bare, exposed, vulnerable.