Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
No sooner have the doors opened and I’ve stepped out of the elevator car than I know I made a mistake.
Because I’m everywhere.
Somebody printed out pictures of me they must have found online and taped them up all over the place. Regular pictures like one of me in braces on my thirteenth birthday, looking like an awkward nerd in front of my cake. There’s one of me with a terrible sunburn I got after falling asleep in my backyard, another one of me screaming on a roller coaster with my hair flying back behind me and my eyes as wide as saucers. Not the most flattering, but they’re normal at least.
It’s the others that make my heart thump and bile rise in my throat as my gaze darts around, taking in the sight of them. There’s the one from earlier, the one that posted this morning, but there are so many others. They’re all graphic, sexual, fake. But at a quick glance, they look real enough.
For a second, I’m frozen, with only my eyes able to move around the room to take in the ugly, humiliating images somebody took the time to print and plaster all over the place. They’re taped to bookshelves, chairs, there are even some that hang from long strips of tape attached to the ceiling, dangling like perverted party decorations.
I need to take them down.
I need to get out of here.
My body is still frozen in indecision before the nausea churning in my gut forces me to take a step back, like putting more space between me and the nightmare in front of me will do anything to fix it.
Only when I back away, I wind up bumping into something that isn’t the elevator doors. Something firm, unyielding, but warm. Like a chest.
Like a person.
There is no reason for me to know who it is in the split second it takes my head to snap around and look up. It could be anybody, right? Only I know. Somehow, it’s not a surprise to find Kellen Archer looming over me, wearing a nasty, satisfied smile.
“You’re here pretty late, Dragonfly.” Looking around the room, he doesn’t seem surprised at the presence of the humiliating pictures. “What, hoping to make a little extra pocket money? Do you have your clients meet you up here?”
My clients? When I understand what he’s getting at, my face goes red along with the rest of me. “That is disgusting. I don’t do things like that.” And why am I defending myself to him? Of all people. I don’t know why it matters. It just does. He just happens to be the only person in front of me right now.
“You sure?” Snickering, he looks around again while his brows lift. “Because that’s not what I’m seeing. Did you really take on five guys at once? Is that how you can afford to go here?”
Goddamn him! The fact that he won’t even listen makes it harder to swallow back the burning, bitter rage lodged in my throat. There is nothing worse than the feeling of being deliberately misunderstood. Judged, ridiculed.
At least, I can’t imagine there being anything worse until he starts moving toward me. There is nothing behind his dark eyes but an even deeper darkness. Something like rage burns there. Rage toward me? What the hell did I ever do to him? Sit in his seat? That is not enough to push him to do this. Is it?
I need to know. My tongue moistens my lips—I can’t help but notice the way he watches intently. “Why are you doing this?” The question is a weak, almost inaudible whisper. I wish I sounded stronger. I wish I was bigger, so I could face him without feeling so overwhelmed.
“Doing what, Dragonfly?” He really seems to get off on bringing up my tattoo. What is this guy’s problem?
At the moment, it’s not his problem I’m most worried about. It’s the problem of him closing in on me. “Would you stop this?” I whisper once I’m able to pull a short, sharp breath through my tight throat. “Just let me go. If this was all a big joke, let me go. You’ve had your fun.”
That was the wrong thing to say. I know it almost as soon as it’s out of my mouth, when his eyes instantly light up. Like a kid who just got handed a present they didn’t know they wanted until it was in front of them. “No, I don’t think I’ve had all my fun. Not yet. But I will.”
Not this, too. Haven’t I been through enough? “Leave me alone.” There’s no way around him. When I try to slip past, all he has to do is make the slightest move to counter it. That’s how big he is. That’s how much space he takes up.