Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
He sits across from me. I can’t believe it. It’s the first time he’s stayed in the kitchen to eat. He usually takes his food to the private balcony outside of his bedroom that overlooks the beach. When he’s out there, I give him twenty minutes before going out to my private balcony, adjacent to his. As soon as I sit in my sun lounger, he goes back inside.
“You’re a strong swimmer.”
His chin stays tucked to his chest as he shovels in his eggs.
“It wouldn’t kill you to answer me.”
He looks up, fork paused a few inches from his mouth. “Was there a question in all your incessant talking?”
“I said you’re a strong swimmer.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Fine. It’s a compliment. You should say ‘thank you’ or ‘thank you, ma’am,’ isn’t that correct?”
The corner of his mouth twitches, not a smile, more like he’s ready to bare his fangs again. “Yes. Ma’am is used out of respect.”
“But you don’t respect me?”
“No.”
“Because I stole your fruit?”
“Yes.”
Unbelievable.
“Well, I wouldn’t have a problem calling you ‘sir’ even though you finger-raped my mouth.”
“I didn’t finger-rape your mouth. If you’d like me to show you what it feels like to have your mouth finger-raped, then I’d be much obliged, but I’d rather stick a sock in it and cover it with duct tape.”
Wow! Why am I still here? Crazy is not a strong enough word—for either of us.
He glances over his shoulder when there’s a knock at the door.
“That’s for me.” I smile while standing from my chair, shuffling across the partially-tiled floor in my flip-flops.
“Ms. Stone?”
I nod with a huge grin.
“Where would you like them?”
“Uh …” I look back at Theo, but he’s resumed eating his breakfast again like I don’t exist. “If you wouldn’t mind taking them to the front room for now, I’ll put them where I want them later. Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The deliveryman carries in the first plant—one of seventeen that I ordered.
Theo gives him a quick glance, but he doesn’t say a word until the fifth plant is ushered past him to the front room.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Oh, um …” The deliveryman looks back at me as I continue to hold open the door.
Theo follows his gaze.
“Did you order all of these?” Theo pins me with his usual scowl.
“Yes, sir.” I wink. “He has twelve more to bring inside.”
The deliveryman jumps when Theo’s fork clanks against his plate two seconds before his chair screeches along the floor as he unfolds all, seemingly, ten feet of himself.
I don’t blink. Not even as the law approaches me. He can’t murder me with a witness in the room. What if his towel fell from his waist? Something tells me he wouldn’t move. Why the hell did that thought go through my mind? If he takes one more step, I’ll be nothing more than something he flicks off the bottom of his giant foot.
“Listen, woman, this isn’t your house. You will not fill it with a bunch of fucking flowers.”
After I’m convinced his towel is secure, my eyes retrace their path back to his. The name Kathryn is tattooed in elegant script along his bicep, under a gray gravestone with a single red rose across it. I’m going to assume Kathryn died.
“Scarlet.”
“What?” His face contorts with irritation.
“My name … it’s Scarlet, not woman. We’ve lived together for a week and you’ve never asked my name. Our opportunities for a proper introduction have been squashed by your …”
His eyes widen a fraction. “My?”
I shrug. “Your barmy attitude, like you’ve lost the plot.”
“Lost the plot?”
My attempt to hide my exasperation is rubbish. A deep sigh breezes past my lips. “Yes, like … you’ve been acting ridiculously.”
He gets in my face, really in my face. “Every word that comes out of your mouth drives me fucking crazy, but not as fucking crazy as the way you say everything.”
“Sorry? How do I say everything?”
“Like you think you’re the fucking Queen!”
“I’m not the Queen. I’m just British.”
“Then just don’t speak.”
“Please ignore Mr. Prick and bring in the rest of my plants.” I duck out of Theo’s visual hold on me.
The deliveryman moves in slow motion, keeping his wide eyes on Theo the whole time. “Y-yes, ma’am.”
The second we’re alone, I feel the shadow of Theo’s foot getting ready to squash me. I should run. But … fuck him. For the next six months this is my house.
“I’m sorry Kathryn died.”
He steps forward so fast, I stumble backwards. The wall saves me from falling onto my bum.
“If you ever say her name again, I will end you.”
My heart takes up permanent residency in my throat. I bet he can see it pulsing in my neck. Once I manage to find a sliver of space to speak past it, I whisper, “Sorry, I’m afraid there’s a queue.”
I blink for the first time since he backed me into the wall. His eyebrows pull tight, like my response somehow confuses or pains him. It can’t be pain. Monsters don’t feel pain.