Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
“Most of what he said doesn’t even make sense. There was a bunch of rambling stuff about you cheating on him, and how he knows where you were last night…and he said you ruined what you had together.”
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. “You weren’t kidding when you said deranged.”
“Will you please let me help you?” Kenzie begs. “I can talk to Andreas and Elias. You trust them, right? They could figure out what to do.”
“No.” I shut that down quickly, eyeing my friends and hoping none of them heard that.
The last thing I need is the Greeks involved when the Vitales are keeping a close eye on me.
“I have it covered,” I assure her.
“As in you’re asking your friends for help, and not keeping this from them, right?” she presses.
“Yes.” I blow out a breath.
I’ll have to tell Cristian about this later, since he’s taken it upon himself to deal with this problem.
“Okay, please be careful in the meantime,” she says.
“Alright, go do your costume change. I don’t want to make you late.”
We say our goodbyes, and I hang up the phone, casting a quick look over the table. Fortunately, nobody seems to have overheard anything, so I don’t have to make a big deal of it right now.
“Hey.” Lucia elbows me again. “Check it out. He finally took off his shirt.”
I glance over at the men, only to find Cristian staring right at me.
That same weird energy sparks between us, and I try to avert my gaze, but it just ends up coasting over his bare chest.
“Does it look like he got new ink?” Lucia asks, noticing it the same time I do.
It’s a small geometric shape, so eerily familiar it makes my heart pound.
“It also looks like he got attacked by the same bitey fish as you,” she says suspiciously.
I swallow as my gaze lands on the mark—in the exact spot where I left one on Bran last night.
I try to think, or breathe, or do something, but I feel paralyzed, and I can’t organize my thoughts. Then he turns to grab his water bottle, exposing the tattoo across his back.
Raven wings.
The world tilts as I shove my chair back and rise to my feet.
“Chantel, are you alright?” Mariella asks.
“I just have to…bathroom.” The words come out in broken fragments, and I don’t wait to see how they’re received.
I head straight into the house and start to run.
It isn’t logical.
I can’t even leave the island until someone arranges a boat for me. But it isn’t logic in the driver’s seat right now.
I just need to get outside, then I can figure something out.
I could cross the island and go to Ares. Except, visiting his house would defeat the whole point of protecting my identity.
I’m not any closer to a solution when a muscular arm wraps around my waist and lifts me into the air.
A shriek bubbles up my throat, but he claps his other hand over my mouth so it doesn’t escape.
He hauls me toward his wing of the house while I hang there in shock.
This can’t be happening.
The reel from last night loops through my mind as I start making comparisons all over again.
The signs were there. I just thought I was imagining the similarities because Cristian had gotten so deep inside my head. But as I slowly come to terms with reality, all I can think is that this man who I thought hated me is the same one I unknowingly spent an entire year with.
I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown when he enters his wing and slams the door behind us.
We don’t make it down the corridor.
He sets me on my feet and presses me against the wall, caging me in with his body as he lifts my chin with his fingers.
“Running away from me, dea?”
“This can’t be real,” I blurt.
“It is.” His voice roughens at the edges.
“It’s been you the whole time?”
“Yes.”
There’s no regret in his response. No uncertainty. Nothing to indicate that he ever thought this might have been a bad idea. And that’s when I remember he knew my name on our video call.
“When did you find out it was me?”
This time, there’s a beat of hesitation before he answers.
“I knew the whole time.”
“Oh, Jesus.” I slip out from beneath his arm, pacing the hall as I mentally unravel the entire timeline of our history.
He lets me have that because he knows me—intimately.
He knows when to talk me through it and when to give me silence.
He’s seen me at my most vulnerable, and suddenly, I feel like such an idiot.
“Was this a game to you?” I ask. “Did you and Marco…plan this?”
“That’s where your mind goes?” His jaw tightens. “You think I liked seeing you with him?”
“You knew who I was the entire time,” I choke out. “You must have gotten some kind of sick enjoyment from that.”