Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
The servants and that hovering butler were nowhere in sight. Like animals scattering after sensing a disturbing change in the atmosphere.
Uncertain what to do next, I surveyed my surroundings. There was the library where I had been unceremoniously deposited when I first arrived. Across from it, through the wide, arched doorway, was an old-fashioned parlor with rich tapestry upholstered chairs and brightly polished mahogany furniture with brass handles and claw feet.
Reluctantly, I turned toward the darkened hallway which led off from the entryway. I twisted my fingers and hesitated, weighing whether I should explore the creepy corridor.
If what that horrible woman had said was true, then Pierce would be in a black mood and likely to take it out on me.
Would he be violent like his brother? Or would he be worse?
On the other hand, perhaps I could convince him that letting me go would increase his chances of winning back the woman he truly loved. If he wanted to be with that Hamptons version of a mean girl, I was not gonna stand in his way.
No, it was Pierce who framed me for murder.
Pierce, who was holding me captive in this monstrous gothic mansion.
Pierce, who had ruined my life.
There was no reason why I should believe anything he said.
I wasn’t even entirely convinced that Jameson was really alive, and this wasn’t just another one of Pierce’s games to off-balance me.
Throwing my shoulders back, I stormed down the corridor, swinging my head from left to right to glance into the interior of each room, searching for Pierce.
Three doors down, there was a closed door.
I bit my lip and reached out to grasp the crystal and brass handle. Before turning it, I glanced down both sides of the hallway, expecting that horrible butler to appear magically with a red-mottled face to scream at me for trying to enter a private room where I was not welcome.
He probably had strict orders to keep me locked in the Blue Room.
Tightening my gut against the sick feeling in my stomach, I slowly turned the knob, wincing when the metal bolt slid open.
I held my breath as I listened for a shout of indignation.
There was only silence.
With my heart pounding in my chest, I pushed the door open a few inches…then a few inches more.
The overwhelming scent of rose and ylang-ylang tickled my nose. This must be the room where that woman met with Pierce. Her heavy perfume lingered.
My fingers went numb as I gripped the doorknob harder.
There was an unnatural stillness to the room.
Perhaps it was empty.
You may want to check on him. The poor thing was utterly devastated—I’m afraid he may harm himself.
He wouldn’t…would he?
Oh, god!
No longer worried about the consequences of snooping around, I swung the door wide open.
Pierce was in a chair by the fire.
His body slumped over at an awkward angle.
I froze, blinking rapidly.
He was my tormentor. My ruin. And my salvation.
In a horrible flash, I realized I didn’t want him to die.
With a scream, I raced across the room and fell to my knees. “Pierce!”
CHAPTER 49
JAMESON
The car door swung open. Skylar stepped out, her heels wobbling on the first step.
A crack in her perfectly coiffed mask of polished indifference. Hands shaking, she tried to open the umbrella, eyes darting around. Tears cascaded down her face, ruining her makeup.
Two options. She’d botched it and knew what was coming, or she’d done exactly what I told her and the weight of it was cracking her open. Either way, the shelf life on Skylar had just gotten shorter.
She ran her French-tipped fingers under her eyes, fixing her mascara.
She slowly scanned every grubby windowpane. I knew she could feel my stare. Good. I wanted her to know I was watching…that I was always watching.
I turned away from the window and gulped the rest of my drink as I waited for her to reach my floor. It was almost over. The wait. The offensive, disgusting wait. Soon, what was rightfully mine would be within my grasp.
I tilted my glass and stared at the empty bottom before reaching for the vodka bottle. Fuck Pierce.
Before her knuckles could even touch the door, I swung it open.
Moving aside, I gestured for her to come in. She stepped past me, and I made a little half step toward her, making her shrink even further into herself.
Slamming the door shut, I pressed her against it. “Did you do it?”
She met my eyes, chin lifted. “Yes, it’s done and fuck you for asking it of me.”
My hand wrapped around her throat. The intense, rapid beat of her heart pulsed against my fingers as I growled, “Don’t forget your place. You do not get to speak to me like that. Now apologize.”
Her throat contracted.
I tightened my grip, making sure she remembered exactly who was in charge.
“I’m sorry, Jameson,” she rasped, casting her eyes down to the floor and hunching her shoulders to make herself seem smaller.