Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Cal: KANE
Just my name. All caps. No punctuation. That’s Cal’s version of a raised eyebrow.
Me: So, funny story, I might not be in Concordia…
Cal: Where the fuck are you?
I grimace as I type the truth.
Me: Rich suburbs. Boston side.
Cal: What in the fuck are you doing near Boston?
Because of her. It’s all because of her. Ever since last night, she’s all I can think about. She’s all I can sense. She’s the only fucking thing on my goddamn mind.
I don’t answer right away because answering feels like admitting something I’m not ready to admit.
But then, something happens. For the first time in Holland Thorne’s miserable fucking existence, he actually helps me. Across the street from where Blair stands on the sidewalk chatting with her mom and sister, Holland the slimefuck approaches from the valet stand. He looks like a douche in loafers and khakis and shiny Ray-Bans on his face.
He, of course, is showcasing that easy smile of his while his goons Mark and Evan flank him on either side.
At the sight of him, Blair and Devney smile, and even Bonnie offers a wave.
Clearly, the whole fucking Windsor family knows him.
That twist in my gut clenches tighter.
Holland kisses Devney’s cheek like he belongs in her world. He speaks to Blair. She laughs and smiles like she hasn’t a clue the true piece of shit that he is.
Cal: KANE WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING RIGHT NOW?
It takes all my willpower to pull my attention away from Blair, but I manage to send Cal a quick message.
Me: Relax. I came here on a little bit of a whim, but it worked out. Slimefuck is here with his two goons.
He knows who Slimefuck is instantly.
Cal: Keep eyes on him.
Across the street, Holland leans in close to Blair, saying something low. Her expression shifts—excited, pleased, proud.
Devney nods, and a satisfied smile crests her mouth. Bonnie still looks bored. Frankly, I don’t know the kid, but goddamn, she’s growing on me. I’d be bored out of my mind if I had to stand there listening to Holland Thorne prattle on.
I open my ears and try to listen.
Something about tomorrow.
New York.
A penthouse.
Damien Snow.
Blair’s heart is racing with excitement. And under all of that, even though Holland is a shield and I can’t read his intention at all, his two brofers’ intentions hum like a live wire. They have ulterior motives, and not a single one of them is being sincere right now.
But it’s clear from their body language they want Blair to feel excited about the whole fucked-up situation they’re planning for Damien Snow—a very important vampire elite.
I don’t know Damien personally, but I know enough about him to know he’s a vicious kind of man. He was the one at the preview last night smelling her fucking neck.
My jaw tightens, and I quickly shoot Cal a message back.
Me: He’s currently setting up something for a woman who was at the preview.
Cal: Anything about us?
Me: We don’t appear to be on his radar right now.
Holland’s only focused on Blair. He wants to sweet-talk her as much as he can to make her willing and compliant. But she has no fucking idea how dark his mind probably is. How devious it all feels, just being able to read Mark’s and Evan’s intentions.
Cal: Don’t do anything stupid. Let’s head back to Worcester in about two hours.
Don’t do anything stupid? It’s starting to feel too fucking late for that.
Across the street, Blair turns slightly. Her hair catches the light. She smiles at Holland like he’s the bridge to everything she wants.
And inside my chest, the bond pulls so hard it feels like it’s tearing something loose.
Tomorrow.
NYC.
Penthouse.
Damien Snow.
None of that sounds good.
If it’s not the auction, it’s against the rules to meet up for anything prior—and even her fairy-tale version of the Selection will be off the rails for good. If it is the auction, I’m out of time anyway. Plus, the mere idea of her going on a trip with anyone but me feels akin to murder.
Three birds, one stone, because really, I’m saving us both here.
Fuck. The narrative you’re spinning sure as hell better hold up later, Kane.
Because there is no version of this where I walk away. And things are about to hit overdrive with absolutely no chance left for reverse.
Blair
My suitcase sits open on the bench at the foot of my bed, and I smooth my hands over a Hermes silk blouse before folding it carefully.
Normally, I would’ve had our housekeeper pack my bags—my mom had even insisted on that—but I don’t know, this trip feels too special to leave it up to anyone else.
I need to make sure everything is perfect. I need to make sure I don’t let my mom down.
I set the blouse gently atop a pair of jeans, but before I can grab the next shirt, my phone buzzes on my nightstand.