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)
My hand drops to his. I pry his fingers off. Quietly. Firmly. My nails bite his knuckles.
“As if I’ll tell you,” I whisper, lips curved in a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
He grins. “Spicy.”
Of course, he likes that. Of course, he thinks it’s a performance for him.
The main course arrives. The wine keeps flowing. The fathers talk shop.
Margins. Assets. Consolidation.
I might as well be a side dish.
“It’s all about the merger now,” Mr. Jameson says. “We need to find ways to integrate.”
My father raises his glass. “Shared goals. Shared futures.”
Grant’s hand returns. Higher this time. Fingers trailing up my thigh like a silent agreement.
My leg jerks, knocking him off me.
I stand abruptly. “Excuse me.” My voice is tight. “I need the restroom.”
I don’t wait for permission. I walk fast, jetting toward somewhere far from here.
With each step I take, it feels like I can’t breathe.
I reach the powder room, and shove open the door. I’m about to close it, when Lorenzo slips in behind me, and then he closes it behind him.
“Jesus,” I breathe. “You scared the hell out of me.”
He locks the door. Leans against it. His jaw is tight. His eyes burn.
“I saw everything,” he growls.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, wiping at the corner of my eye even though I’m not crying. Not yet.
He steps forward. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
His hand cups my face.
I close my eyes.
“He touched you like he owned you.”
“He thinks he does.”
Lorenzo’s voice is low, lethal. “He doesn’t.”
“And what say do you have?” I ask, eyes snapping open.
His thumb grazes my cheekbone. “I don’t care who I am. Or what your father thinks of me. I won’t let him have you.”
“You can’t stop them.”
“Watch me.”
And then he kisses me.
Hard.
Fierce.
Like he’s branding a vow into my mouth.
I kiss him back like I believe it.
Because for one second, I do.
We break apart, both breathless. My fingers curl around his wrist.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods, jaw still clenched. “You go in there with your head high, Little Bird. Let the bastard see what real fire looks like.”
I square my shoulders.
And step out of the bathroom.
Back toward the flames.
16
Victoria
I make it back to my room after dinner before I fall apart. Barely.
The door clicks shut behind me.
The silence feels suffocating, and my skin still burns where Grant touched me.
I move to the edge of my bed, grabbing a handful of my skirt and clenching until the silk wrinkles between my fingers.
In. Out. In.
It doesn’t work.
The walls feel too close. And my hands shake.
“You're fine,” I whisper to myself, pacing now. My bare feet thud softly against the plush rug like I’m trying to stomp down the panic. “You're fine. You're fine. You made it through dinner. You're in your room. He's not here. He can't touch you now.”
But the tremble won’t stop.
My chest stutters with every breath.
I rub my hands up and down my arms, whispering anything.
Nonsense, comfort, lies . . .
Anything to drown out the sound of my pulse.
And then I see it.
A slip of paper on my desk. With a pebble sitting on top of it.
I blink. Step closer, heart tripping.
The small pebble is smooth and gray. It looks like it doesn’t belong anywhere near me.
I lift it slowly.
Lorenzo. Of course.
A laugh breaks out of me. It sounds thin and shaky.
I tuck the pebble into the small wooden box on my desk, where I’ve been storing them. The one I keep for earrings. Somehow, these little stones feel more precious than all of them.
I unfold the note.
Are you okay? Just that, scribbled in dark pen.
Underneath, it says Meet me outside. Same place.
While the panic continues to buzz inside my veins, something inside me loosens its grip seeing his note.
I strip off the silk dress, the fabric whispering as it hits the floor. I throw on my softest pajama shorts and a hoodie two sizes too big. The one I stole from Lorenzo.
I crawl onto the window seat and sit there, knees to my chest, watching. Waiting.
The estate lights go out one by one.
By the time the last lamp flickers out in the west wing, my hand is already on the doorknob.
I move silently out of my room and down the hall until I’m walking out the back door and into the summer night.
The grass is cool against my toes, and the air smells like fresh rain. I’m all the way to the beach when I see him.
A towel is laid out on the sand with Lorenzo sitting there like he’s been waiting a lifetime for me.
His knees are bent, and his forearms are resting casually on top. He’s so cute when he doesn’t know I’m watching, and it’s just him and his thoughts. I take another step closer, and his gaze snaps to mine.
He smiles as he hops up, and I walk straight into his arms.