Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“Okay, I’m going to make another cup of tea.” I make my way downstairs, and flick FaceTime on. “It is raining cats and dogs here.”
“Really?” The camera comes on and I see her and laugh. “Why is your face mask bright orange?”
“I don’t know, I bought this shit on TikTok. It’s the latest trend.” She turns her head to look at her reflection in the camera. “Do you think it will stain my skin?”
“I would get that shit off immediately if I were you.”
She carries the phone into the bathroom and sets it down, I watch on as she washes her face and I smile at the normalcy of us.
I’m going to be okay.
EDWARD
“I just don’t get it,” Nicholas says as he reads out loud from his phone. “It says here….” The voices trail off.
I walk to the staircase and then back to the door, I look out over the sea and glance at my watch, it’s 6 p.m.
She’d be finishing work soon.
“You know how it works….” Theodore’s voice blurs into the distance.
I walk to the bottom of the staircase and back to the door.
Why hasn’t Philippe called me yet?
I walk to the staircase and then back to the door, I glance at my watch again.
Time passes and it’s now 7:30 p.m… hmm.
Maybe I should call him?
I walk to the staircase and then back to the door.
“Will you sit down?” Theodore snaps. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I continue to pace, I glance at my watch again.
Is she working late tonight?
“Prescott,” Theo snaps.
I glance up. “What?”
“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re like a cat on a hot tin roof.”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You’re wearing the carpet down with all the pacing.”
“I’m not pacing.” I screw up my face in annoyance. “Can you all fuck off back to your yachts and leave me alone.”
“What is wrong with you lately?” William frowns.
“Nothing,” I snap. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
The need to know she’s okay is slowly sending me insane.
I walk to the staircase and then back to the door.
Fuck this, why hasn’t he called? I storm out to the deck and dial his number.
Ring, ring….
“Boss,” he answers.
“What’s happening?” I snap.
“She hasn’t left yet, she’s still in her store.”
I glance at my watch. “What’s she doing in there?”
“I don’t know, the other staff left half an hour ago.”
“Go in and see if she’s alright.”
“She’s alright, I can see her cleaning through the front window.”
“Why is she cleaning after hours?” I bark.
“I don’t know, why don’t you ring her and ask.”
“You are beginning to piss me off, Philippe.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you when she’s home safe.”
I hang up and walk to the staircase and then back to the door.
Is she alright?
ALORA
ONE WEEK LATER.
I click through and type into Google:
Best beach holiday destinations
I’ve made an executive decision, I’m going on a vacation all by myself. Where I can lie in the sun, drink margaritas, and have daily massages. Somewhere that I can lick my wounds and get myself together in private, away from his guards.
For a while there having his guards still loitering around gave me hope, I mean if he cared enough to have me watched over then maybe he was coming back.
But as the days go by I realize this isn’t about coming back, this is about control.
Him knowing where I am at all times, and I’m sorry, Mr. Prescott, but I’ve had enough.
Screw. You.
The crying, heartbroken and wimpy version of Alora has morphed into the angry and mean version of Alora. And I like her a lot better.
Even if Edward came back now begging on his knees for forgiveness, I wouldn’t take him back. No way in hell, that chapter has closed for good. He had his chance and he blew it.
Asshole.
EDWARD
“Good morning, I’m Alora from Sorenson Antiques,” she says, my heart constricts at the sight of her smile, I feel it all the way to the pit of my stomach. Her hair is down and she’s wearing a fitted cream dress.
Always so effortlessly beautiful.
I don’t know why I keep putting myself through this by watching her morning videos, all it does is screw up my entire day. She’s clearly composed, happy, and carefree. While I’m over here dying a slow and painful death.
“Today we have a beautiful chest that I want to show you.” She runs her hand over the chest. “It’s early seventeen hundreds and would have been used as a blanket or storage box.” The camera angle circles the chest. “Perfect for hiding useless things.” She opens the lid. “Perhaps even spineless cowards and their pathetic letters.” She slams the door shut. “Just joking, those things belong in the trash with all the other nasty things.”
Adrenaline surges, even when not addressing me directly she still has a way of pissing me off.
“And these marble lamps are beautiful.” She picks one up and pretends to swing it. “Excellent for knocking people out.”