Total pages in book: 193
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 184001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 920(@200wpm)___ 736(@250wpm)___ 613(@300wpm)
“Well, what is it?” Thorin snaps grouchily. I think he was enjoying watching us a little too much.
Khalil doesn’t answer and instead steps aside to show us an official-looking person standing there in business attire. Before I can ask who he is and what the fuck he wants, I’m elbowed aside as Aurelia, now dressed, comes to stand in front of me.
“Aurelia George?” the visitor asks.
“Yes?”
He holds out a yellow envelope to her. “You’ve been served.”
AURELIA
A conservatorship.
Last week, I completely severed ties with my uncle, cutting him out of everything.
So Uncle Mars retaliated by petitioning the probate court to appoint him control over my personal and financial affairs, claiming I was the victim of psychological abuse.
Stockholm syndrome.
He’s claiming I have Stockholm syndrome and am currently under the influence of my kidnappers, and now the court is ordering me to an evaluation to prove that I’m not.
There is no hope of winning. It doesn’t matter if it’s true. It only matters what it looks like.
It would be easy enough to prove that Thorin, Khalil, and Seth were the search and rescue team tasked with finding me. From there it was only a matter of connecting the dots. They show up here as my new bodyguards after I went missing for months and reappeared out of thin air. It would be impossible to convince the world, much less a judge, that they weren’t involved.
And then there’s the fact that I’m pregnant and clearly conceived before my return to the States.
The only thing I can do is tell the same story that I gave the sheriff. That my uncle hired men to kill me—which he did—and my bodyguards heard my plight and saved my life by shielding me from him—which was only partially true.
The only problem is I have no proof.
The men he hired are dead, and my uncle could easily claim that he sent them there solely to find my body and bring me home for burial. We’ll still end up looking like the bad guys and my uncle the hero.
I’m screwed with a capital F.
“We can’t wait until after the baby is born,” I tell my guys once we’re alone. We’re in the apartment instead of the house because I couldn’t stand being in the car long enough to make it there. I’m pacing the length of the living room, my toes sinking into the plush carpet, the city lights through the large windows winking at me, and my hand on my aching belly as my mountain men watch me from their seats with worried frowns. “I have to kill him. I have to kill him now.”
“We actually can’t kill him now. You’ve already been served the papers. Marston George being murdered hours later will only land you the number one spot on the suspect list.”
“What about Logan Abbott?” I say.
Thorin sighs with impatience, and I pivot to face him looking so out of place in the white tufted chaise with shaggy throw pillows all around him. “Yes, I know what you’re thinking. There are probably dozens of Logan Abbotts out there who want him dead and no one who will mourn him, but you’re the one with the most compelling motive, wolf. It’d be an open-and-shut case.”
“Other than firing him as your manager, no one knew of the rift between you,” Khalil points out, “and even then, he had more reason to hurt you than the other way around. This petition will have everyone looking at you.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. He can’t do this to me. I can’t—aaaaargh,” I groan as I bend over to relieve the cramping in my stomach. “Gaaah, I can’t wait.”
“Aurelia, sit down,” Khalil demands.
“No.” I start pacing again, but wince when I’m hit with another cramp.
“AURELIA, SIT DOWN!” Khalil roars.
I jump and then feel tears immediately welling in my eyes. “Don’t yell at me,” I wail. “I’m scaaaared.”
“Fuck.” Khalil jumps up from his seat and takes me in his arms. “I’m sorry, Goldilocks. Hey, stop that. Please stop crying,” he begs when I sob harder.
I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. “I don’t know what to do anymore. He’s already taken everything, and he still wants more.”
“He hasn’t taken us,” Thorin reassures me as he comes to stand behind me and rub his hand across my back. “We’ve got you. We’ll fix this. Marston George will die.”
“In the meantime, how can we make this better for you? What can we do right now?”
I sniffle and lift my head to see Khalil, who asked the question. “Cheeseburger.”
Once the guys bring me the fattest, juiciest cheeseburger they can find, and I fill it with fries and chocolate sauce before devouring it in a handful of bites, it feels like I’m thinking clearer.
Enough to say, “I know what to do.”