Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Yes, I saw the picture he painted for me to see, but I also saw through it.
It’s as if he forgets I’ve been immersed in his twisted world as his favored protege.
“And there’s the issue with her and Doc Junior,” Gideon adds. “Theo wasn’t the only one she was sleeping with.”
The mention of that twat has my eye twitching. It’s nearly impossible to rein in my anger. They’re expertly pushing my buttons and I’m foolishly letting it affect me.
She’s not sleeping with Theo or Doc Junior.
She’s mine.
You can’t fake the adoration she has for me when I’m deep inside her, our eyes locked and souls tangling.
So stop letting them rile you up, dumbass.
“My daughter is troubled,” Gideon explains sadly. “Her mother had mental problems and it’s clear she inherited them from her. It’s in your best interest to distance yourself from the girl. We’ll get her the help she needs. You can go back to your normal life. I’m sorry she’s caused such mayhem.”
I drain the rest of my glass and set it down on the table beside me hard enough I’m surprised I don’t break it. All eyes are on me as I rise to my feet.
“Where are you going?” Dad asks with a frown. “We’ve only just begun to discuss this.”
“I’m sick of this,” I spit out. “The lies. The bullshit. I’m going to see her.”
I’ll find my brother and force him to take me to her.
They have words of protest for me, but I’m no longer interested in indulging them in conversation. I storm out of the living room, passing Eva on the way.
“Find her,” she mouths, bottom lip trembling.
I give her a curt nod. I’m not going to find Romy to satisfy Eva. I’m going to find her because she’s mine and safe with me. If I have her with me, maybe I can think a little more clearly. Everything feels so murky all of a sudden.
The door closes behind me with a soft click. My feet feel heavy. Is it the shoes I changed into? Maybe I drank a little too much without a thing in my stomach to absorb its effects.
I slam a shoulder into the hallway wall and grunt in surprise. Okay, so yeah, I’m definitely inebriated. Stupid. I’d been so pissed, I didn’t control myself, drinking everything that was offered to me.
Offered.
Fuck.
A wave of dizziness washes over me. I stumble across the hallway, crashing into the other wall this time.
I have to get out of here.
The elevator feels like it’s a thousand feet away rather than twenty or so. With sluggish steps, I try to make my way over to it without falling face first to the floor.
Voices echo from behind me.
Shouts of concern? Commands to stop?
I reach the elevators and clumsily mash at the button to call it up. Darkness creeps in my vision. This time when the world spins around me, I miss the wall, landing hard on my knees instead. My chest is tight and feels like it might explode.
Am I having a heart attack?
No, I’ve been drugged.
Fuck.
The last thing I remember before everything going dark is the burn of the carpet tearing at the flesh on my check when I go down with a hard thump.
“I’ll take care of Calista.”
I hate him. I hate him so much. I want to leave and never come back. But what about her? I have to come back for her.
My sister—
The girl staring at me now is not a little girl at all but a grown woman who wears hickeys on her neck. That’s not how this happened. Everything’s all messed up. My brain is mixing up my memories, combining them into something wrong.
Wake up!
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I open my eyes, glad to be out of the twisted dream. I’m not in my bed, though, at the hotel or at home.
At home, I don’t have an oxygen line strapped to my head.
A desperate need to rip it away from my nose consumes me, but my body is completely numb. I can’t move. It’s like I’m so relaxed, my limbs don’t work.
Just my mind.
And it’s going a hundred miles per hour.
I start to panic, which makes my heart race. It takes considerable effort to calm the hell down.
What happened?
Where am I?
I was drugged.
And now I’m in the hospital, unable to move or speak.
My eyes feel heavy and it takes great focus to make them scan the room I’m in. It’s your typical hospital room, so there’s nothing to report.
I need my phone.
I need Romy.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
“You’re not in trouble,” the woman says. “You just haven’t properly dealt with the grief from losing your parents. That’s why you have all that anger inside of you. We’re going to make it all better, hon.”
The social worker who’s been assigned to me speaks as though she cares, but I know I’m a headache for her. Each time she gets me placed in a home that has room for me, she ends up having to pick me back up because I lose my temper in regrettable ways.