Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
The silence edges me closer to tipping point, so I hit the radio on again. This time I know the song that filters through the tight space… “Late to the Party” by Joyner Lucas.
“Your father isn’t exactly who you think he is, Ruby.” I don’t bother turning around to look at him. It only makes it more difficult to be distracted by his ridiculously beautiful facial features. Honestly, it’s not fair at all that someone with his extreme asshole-ry is this hot.
“I think I know exactly who my father is, Wicked. You don’t need to tell me. You don’t need to say anything more, and anyway—” I turn back in my chair, finally braving myself to look at him. “I’m more worried about the kind of man you are. Where are you taking me, Wicked? And why?” I didn’t expect him to answer my questions. If being the daughter of the mafia has taught me anything, it’s that women don’t know anything. I’m not important enough to be asking questions and he doesn’t need to answer them. Something I would die on a mountain to change.
He licks the side of his lip, and I quickly divert my eyes back to the road in front of me. “If I could tell you everything, I would. If I could tell you anything, I fucking would.”
I blink back the tears that build behind my eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t fucking care.” The sun is in full beam now, and I’ve lost track of so much time that I don’t even notice when he turns the wheel off the road and enters a long dusty path that leads to God knows where.
I spin back around to watch as the road we were just on slowly disappears. Wrapping my arms around my belly, I close my eyes and retrace all of the memories I have of my family. Anything.
“Are they going to kill me?” I ask without opening my eyes. I already know what he’s going to say, but I need to ask anyway. Turning to face him one last time, I wait until his eyes connect with mine. “Are you going to kill me?” He doesn’t answer, turning the radio off and continuing to drive us off-road. It must go on forever, because by the time we finally pull up to a long wired gate, my ass is numb. I haven’t moved.
He shuts off the car and we sit and wait.
“Aren’t you going to get out and open my door?” I ask sarcastically, looking out the window beside me. “Or what?” I follow the lines of the tall redwood trees in the distance. “You afraid I’ll run you over.”
“Look at me, Ruby.” I don’t. And I have to fight back the large rock lodged in my throat to stop myself from crying. From exposing every single emotion that has been building inside of me since he took me. “Ruby…” That simple word said by lips that whisper lies. I hate him.
His fingers come to the back of my neck and I jolt as electricity shoots down the base of my spine from the connection. He forces me around until I’m looking directly at him. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” He says the words, but the corner of his lip curls upward.
“No, you’re not…” I say, sneering. “You like this.”
His brows raise up slightly and his smirk only deepens. “You’re right.” He forces my head away, reaching for the handle and shoving it open. “I do like it.”
I fall from the SUV and land on the dirt, where stones cut into the palms of my hands and blood fills my mouth.
I cough, sucking in deep breaths and rolling to my back. My chest tightens and I look up at the sky from blurry eyes. The sun doesn’t bother to hide behind a cloud. It beams down on me, laughing, like I got myself into whatever this situation is. A shadow clouds my face and everything goes black.
My wrists prickle with pain, and I slowly try to twist them around as spasms zap through my head.
Wicked. Pushing me out of the car. Stealing me. Oh my God.
My eyes pop open and I shoot to my feet. It’s cold. So cold that goose bumps litter my exposed legs. There’s a perfectly manicured bush in front of me, and I turn around to see an identical one opposite. Left and right, I’m boxed in by a cube of dense but flawlessly manicured hedges. Dirt mushes between my toes as I make my way to the other end, swiping the blood from the side of my face. I walk around the corner, to where it continues around like a maze. Running to the end, I hit another corner and spin back around to see where I came from. The sun that was rising this morning behind Wicked is now setting in the sky, and the pain around my wrists and head intensifies the farther I walk.