Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
"Well. Thank you for escorting me." The snark creeps back, and I don't know why I keep aiming it at him. I rein it in. "Wilson will take you wherever you need to go. I'll get myself to the door." I lean forward, body tensing for the humiliation that always comes with getting out of a car.
"Do you know there's a code?" Allister smiles, and my belly does the thing it only ever does in cheap romance novels.
God, how does he do that?
"Code?" I lift a brow.
"The real-man code."
"What are you talking about?" I hate that I'm desperate to keep him here a few more minutes.
"Real men finish what they start. Real men walk ladies to the door. Real men have a code. You'll get familiar with it. But for now, just know I'll be walking you to that door."
All I can do is sit there, mute, and try not to drool.
The limo eases to a stop in front of the guesthouse.
The door clicks open, and Wilson's there with his usual warm smile, the gold-capped tooth catching the light. He's been driving my family since before the accident, before my parents died.
He’s old enough to be one of them, steady enough to feel like one. When Simon took over the house and used me to bend May to his will, half the staff scattered. Wilson didn't.
He and the two old-timers circled the wagons around me and never explained why. They just stayed.
He's the closest thing to safe I've had in a long time.
Wilson reaches in to take my hand. Allister's is there first.
"I'll take it from here. Thank you." He moves swift and silent for a man his size, easing Wilson back with nothing but his body.
Wilson grimaces. His eyes go from me to Allister and back, and there's something in them I don't have a name for. He's staff, but he’s never felt only like staff.
"I'll be here to take you back to the house—"
"We'll be fine." Allister doesn't let him finish. "I'll take her wherever she needs to go."
Both men go still, squared off, deciding something over my head. And somehow it's my job to smooth it. "I'll text you when I need the car, Wilson. Thank you."
He hesitates. Then, quietly: "You have my number."
Another look passes between them. Whatever it is, it's about me.
I barely know Allister. I learned a long time ago that almost everyone who gets close wants something, and it's usually our money. Wilson never has. Not once.
"Leah." Allister leans down until his face fills the open door. " Take my hand, let me help you inside. My gentleman card gets revoked if I don't get you in safe and sound."
I swallow hard and shift toward the door. Thank God for gauzy silk; it slides over the leather easy. I can't push off with my legs, so I use my arms to drag myself into position, reaching down to lift my feet and set them where they'll fall square under me when I stand.
If I stand. Wouldn't be the first time I've gone over. Face down, ass up.
Cute for a porn star. Not for me.
Part of me wants to trade Allister for Wilson right now, only because Wilson's already seen me at my worst.
He doesn't make me feel the way Allister does.
Or give me the urge to kiss him.
The way Allister does.
The straps bite into my thighs as I move, the steel cold through my skirt. I will the heat down out of my face and fail.
Needless to say, these are not Jimmy Choos.
My cheeks flash flaming fuchsia just as Allister leans into the doorway, both enormous hands scooping up mine. Those golden eyes never leave my face.
"I've got you, Leah. I'll never let you fall."
And the dangerous thing, the terrifying thing, is that some starving, broken part of me wants to believe him.
2
Allister
Dormant dick.
Dormant: having normal physical functions suspended or slowed for a time, as if in a deep sleep.
Well, hibernation is over.
Two weeks ago, the first time I saw her, I tried to tell myself it was just adrenaline and male ego.
White knight syndrome. I've got it. Always have.
But this was different. I opened that dungeon door, found her gagged and tied to her wheelchair in the pitch black, and my knees nearly went out from under me. In the dim light, I could barely make out her face, but it was more than her beauty that shook me.
Thunder rolled through me. Something in me latched onto her in that black room and hasn't let go since.
I can't explain it. It hit me like a bat to the balls.
I couldn't get a full breath as I crossed to her, shoving cops out of my path when they tried to step in front of me.
No way was anyone getting to her before me. I became someone else in that room, something wild.