Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
She’d hated it when she was a child, she despised it even more now… because he made her feel like a beholden orphan, someone who owed him her very life and existence. When, in fact, he did whatever he wanted with her money, funding his and his daughters’ lifestyle and his own business with the money her mother had temporarily entrusted to him on Fern’s behalf.
She took a sip from her drink and sighed in contentment as the soothing warmth heated her from the inside out. This was a temporary peace. She’d have to find a way to speak with Cade Hawthorne tonight and the only way she could think of to do so was in his room. Where she hoped to find him alone. If he took Allie up on her very obvious overtures—she ignored the pang of something that lodged in the vicinity of her heart at the thought of Cade with one of her stepsisters—then Fern was highly unlikely to get him alone tonight. She only hoped he was really as uninterested as he’d appeared during dinner.
If not then this—her last opportunity to take control of her life—would die tonight.
The meeting after dinner had been as frustrating as Cade had expected it to be. Whatever the fuck cat and mouse game Abernathy was playing was getting old. If nothing was resolved tomorrow, Cade would advise his dad to cut his losses on this one, and move onto their second choice. There were other sustainable building options out there. Lambecrete just happened to have a business ethos that gelled with HC&E’s. They’d have to make very few changes to the company once they acquired it. It would be the perfect fit, which was why they’d been willing so far to play Granger Abernathy’s twisted little power games. But HC&E was ready to move on after this weekend. And they needed to make that very fucking clear tomorrow.
It was close to midnight, and Cade was unable to sleep. He stared down at the brightly lit pool from his room window, tempted to a grab few more laps but the certainty that one or both of Abernathy’s relentless daughters would follow him down there was enough to keep him right where he was.
That naturally brought his thoughts circling back to the woman who’d frequently wandered into his mind over the last two months. Usually, the memory of her was cringe inducing and while that cringe factor was still there, it was now mixed in with a healthy dose of what the fuckness.
He needed to have a conversation with her.
Soon.
He needed to know what game she was playing. He considered sneaking around trying to find her room, but grimaced at the thought of accidentally stumbling into one of the Abernathy sisters’ rooms instead. God, that would be a shitshow and invite even further unwanted attention. Worse, he’d be unable to adequately explain his reasons for sneaking around the house in the middle of the night.
He scrubbed a hand down his face, it was best to stay put and try to corner her in the morning.
A soft, scratching noise coming from his bedroom door made him freeze and his head tilted as he tried to figure out the source of that noise. He slowly relaxed when a few seconds passed without the sound recurring, maybe it had been a rodent or—
There it was again.
Louder… more purposeful. He was wondering if it was one of those predatory women, trying to get into his room, when a white slip of paper slid across the marble floor from the gap beneath the door.
Wha—? For a beat he stared at it blankly, when the name on what he could now identify as an envelope registered: Cade.
Only one person here would call him that.
His long-legged stride ate up the distance between window and door in four seconds flat and he yanked it open just in time to see her turning down the far corner at the end of the long hallway.
“Wait!” he whisper-shouted, then swore viciously before taking off after her. He caught up with her at her bedroom door, hooking a hand in the crook of her elbow, just as she opened said door, and swinging her round to face him. She was a wearing a long, white, short sleeved nightgown, and her hair, only a shade or two darker than the gown, was tumbling down her shoulders and back in a mass of heavy silken waves. He froze, stuck by the absolute beauty of that fall of silver hair, haloed by the warm light of the room behind her.
His throat worked for a second as he fought to find his voice. She stared at him mutely, eyes wide in shock and no small amount of fear.
It was the fear that jostled him out of his daze, and he fastened his free hand around her other arm and frog marched her backward into her room, shutting the door firmly behind them before releasing her.