Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
He leans forward slightly. “Finish eating, Little Bird.”
My stomach flips at the nickname, but I shrug it off and still, for some reason, try to pretend I’m not affected by it.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not your Little Bird anymore.”
He watches me for a beat too long. “That’s where you’re wrong. You always were. And nothing will change that.”
I don’t answer.
Because I don’t know what to do with that. The kitchen goes quiet again, but it isn’t hostile for the first time since I’ve moved into this house, it’s . . . something else.
When I finish eating, Lorenzo stands, walks to the pantry, and returns with a thick coat, handing it to me with a smile.
It’s heavy black wool, warm.
I look down at it, then up at him. “You planned this?”
His eyes gleam. “I plan everything.”
My heart rate picks up again. Damn my treacherous body. And if it weren’t bad enough that I’m losing a war within myself to not be affected by this man, he grabs the gloves off the counter and pulls them on with slow precision.
The sight is obscene.
A man shouldn’t look so hot putting on damn gloves.
I have it bad for my husband.
This isn’t good.
Together, we move through the hallway until we are at the door to leave the house.
Lorenzo pauses, his gaze flickering to the nearest guard. The guard straightens.
“Stay where you are,” Lorenzo orders, voice low, controlled.
He opens the door then, and together we step outside. No security, just us.
Cold air slams into my face, crisp and sharp.
Lorenzo walks beside me, hands in his pockets, coat collar turned up. His expression is unreadable, eyes scanning the property like he’s watching for threats I can’t see.
We walk down a path lined with snow-covered hedges. My breath clouds in front of me.
We go farther than I expected.
The house falls behind us, shrinking through the trees. The path curves toward the back edge of the property, where the land slopes gently downward.
I can hear something.
Not the guards. Not Lorenzo. Something rhythmic. A hush, then a low crash.
My steps slow, and then my breath catches. Because as soon as the trees thin, I see it . . .
Water.
A wide, sprawling view of the ocean.
I stop walking, and my heart thuds in my chest because across the water is a familiar shape on the opposite shoreline.
A massive estate.
With a small building set against the shoreline . . .
A boathouse.
My boathouse.
“That . . .” My voice comes out thin. “That’s . . .”
Lorenzo’s gaze stays fixed on the horizon. His hands remain in his pockets, and his posture is too still.
“Yes. It is.”
I turn sharply toward him. “That’s my parents’ house. Why?”
He looks at me with those dark eyes.
“Why?” I ask again. “Why would you—”
“Because I could.” His mouth twitches. “And because I wanted to...”
His words hang in the air. The meaning of them, though, is a bit more complex . . .
My head spins with what it could mean, but no matter how much my brain circles around the words, it always comes back to the same thought: he wanted me close.
He wasn’t over me.
He’s still not.
My heart beats rapidly in my chest.
I gesture wildly at the view. “You bought an estate across from my parents just to—what? Stare at them? Torture yourself?”
His eyes flicker. Something dark passes behind them. He looks out at the water again.
“I bought this place with my father’s inheritance.” Lorenzo’s voice is softer than I expected. “The one my uncle gave me when my father died.”
My throat tightens.
“I’d been saving for years,” he adds, looking down at the snow under his boots. “Every paycheck. Every scrap. Every dime. I didn’t buy much. Didn’t go out. Didn’t waste money.”
I stare at him, stunned.
He glances back at me. “Don’t look at me like I’m noble. I’m not. I’m obsessive.”
My voice cracks. “You were . . . here?”
His jaw flexes once as the question hits him somewhere unpleasant.
“Yes. I was . . . always here.”
My chest feels too tight. I swallow. “That’s insane.”
A faint smile tugs at his mouth. “Yes.”
I stare at the estate across the water. The boathouse is visible from here. A small structure, white and gray. A speck at this distance.
But my brain fills in the details anyway. I turn back to him. “You watched me?”
His gaze locks on mine.
It’s dark.
Unflinching.
“I watched the house,” he corrects, voice low. “I watched the shoreline. I watched the world that took you away from me.”
My throat burns.
“And you didn’t—” I choke, trying to force the words out. “You didn’t come back.”
His eyes narrow, and a muscle jumps in his jaw. “I did. In every way that mattered.”
My breath catches in my chest, and suddenly I feel like I’m standing on unstable ground.
And it terrifies me.
“I don’t understand.”
His gaze drags down my face, slow. “You never did.” He steps closer. Close enough that his presence fills my air.