Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I don’t know if it’s supposed to help Titus’s ego or act as a silent challenge, but it’s not my relationship, so I don’t care. But I do imagine Titus losing to me at the hunt and having to sleep on the sofa for a week because his wife can’t stand the sight of a loser.
Serves him right.
Kill frowns. “I never did shoot a gun before.”
Samantha raises her brows. “Didn’t you just say Damen took you to a shooting range?”
Fuck. Kill is too drunk for this.
“He just watched that time, but we have over a week until Christmas,” I say quickly.
Kill bites his lips. “Ah, yes. I watched. Damen is such a good shot.”
“That’s what love is all about. Appreciating one another,” I say and lean in for a kiss. Kill tastes of booze, and I can sense him trying to dive in with his tongue, but I think I’d rather wait with that, especially as the whisky is hitting him with increasing force. “My cheerleader.”
“Hear that, Karl?” Mother says with raised eyebrows. “I’ll drink to that.”
Kill leans in to whisper. “Where is the bathroom?”
This is a good excuse to take him to bed. We’ve had enough excitement for tonight, and the rest of the family can stew in their confusion. I bet Bree has already been texting my sister throughout this nuclear explosion of a dinner. At which I didn’t even eat, but that’s fine.
“I think we’re both very tired,” I say, rising from my seat. “We’ll see you all at breakfast.”
Kill’s soft gaze captures mine, and he grabs my arm, using it to pull himself to his feet. He’s cute that way.
“Goodnight.” Samantha gives a little wave, and I hold her gaze, because anyone would be happy to have a woman like her at their side. Maybe Uncle Roger could introduce her to one of my single cousins? They’ll be arriving in droves tomorrow.
While Kill’s walk is wobbly, he manages not to trip all the way to the corridor where I catch him.
He waves it off. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” he says, but I pick him up regardless. He’s not tiny, but definitely on the compact side, so I don’t struggle, especially as he’s not unconscious and holds on to me. “No! I can walk!” he argues, but still laughs and doesn’t fight me.
“That went well,” I say, passing one of the staff on my way toward the main staircase.
With his arms wrapped around my neck, Kill giggles (actually giggles). “That’s one way to put it,” he slurs his words, but at least he’s not blacked out. “Titus is such a little bitch.”
Nobody ever talks like this about the reigning champion of the Christmas hunt, and I laugh, giving my fake husband a smooch. “Finally, someone agrees with me! We’re a match made in heaven,” I tell him, climbing the steps to the second floor, where most of the bedrooms are located. I don’t live here anymore full time, but there are so many rooms in this house that nobody would even consider redecorating and repurposing my old room.
Kill arches up to kiss my neck so abruptly I lose balance for half a second, but he’s so adorable I don’t chastise him.
“Your mom is trying at least, but your dad—” He pulls back to look into my eyes, his own wide as saucers. “Oh fuck. Did I swear at your dad? I think I did. Oh, no… I’m fucking sorry.”
“I’m not,” I say, walking down the corridor upstairs, toward the room at the end, where I spent much of my child- and teenagerhood. “He deserved it.”
Kill’s expression softens. “If he tries to kill me, you’ll protect me, right?”
Poor boy, already so stressed, and it’s only the first evening of our stay.
“You’re always safe with me, baby.” I kiss his forehead and press my elbow on the door handle, opening the room I call mine, even though I didn’t get to modify it much to my own taste.
The maid has left one of the twin bedside lamps on, and it provides more than enough light for me to find my way to the massive sleigh bed. In the warm glow, entering the brown-and-green space feels like a walk through the woods at sundown. The velvet curtains are all drawn. The thick Turkish carpet is dense as moss under my feet, and the pillows will surely ensure restful sleep for us both.
I shut the door behind us with a gentle kick, and deposit my fake husband on the mattress, immediately making sure he doesn’t fall asleep in his slippers. “There’s an ensuite here,” I say, pointing out a door to the right.
“Oh, right. Pee. I wanted to pee.” Kill tries to rise, and while it takes him a while and the support of my arm, he does manage. “Samantha was nice, but I won’t let her steal my husband,” he laughs and pulls me down for a whiskey-flavored kiss as I help him make his way to the bathroom. I end up helping him stand straight, then carry him back to bed. I can see he’s starting to fall asleep on me, and there is something so innocent about it I stare at him while he stretches in the sheets, as if unaware what a work of art he is. I don’t know what it says about me that I like seeing him so helpless, but he reminds me of a kitten.