Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
His expression doesn’t shift.
“And as far as a relationship—i.e., dating you, I’ll need some time to think about that…”
“That’s all I have to say for now.” I stare at him, waiting for a rebuttal, but he’s standing so still and tight that he might as well be a statue.
Okay, then.
“Glad you’re being understanding about this.” I push my cart forward and past him, and he grips the handle before I can get away.
“If it was this easy for you to walk away from me, I would’ve let you do it a long time ago,” he says.
“I haven’t known you that long.”
“I’ve known you.” His voice is terse, and the way he’s said that line makes me slightly uneasy. “Nonetheless…”
He lets go of the cart and moves closer, caging me in against shelves of oatmeal.
Tilting my chin up with his fingertips, he looks deep into my eyes.
“We haven’t even begun to have sex, so you shouldn’t look at the few orgasms you’ve had as anything more than a taste…” His mouth brushes against mine as he speaks, as if he’s imprinting his sentences onto my mouth.
“You can have some time off,” he says, “but it’ll always depend on what needs to be done. And you will be surveilled—whether you like it or not—because that’s a non-negotiable part of being with me.”
“I’m not making a request.”
“Then you’re wasting your breath.”
“Ryder—”
“I protect anyone and everyone who I care about, and that now includes you—” he doesn’t let me finish. “This isn’t a fucking punishment.”
“Then it’s a complete disregard of privacy.”
“My men aren’t getting into bed with you or listening to your phone calls.”
I have a feeling that might be next. “You can’t force me to work under you,” I say instead.
“We’ll agree to disagree,” he says. “Why did you pack a getaway bag?”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“You heard me,” he says. “Are you planning to go somewhere when you leave this store tonight?”
“This is exactly what I mean about lack of privacy…” My voice falters. “Since your men tell you everything I do, ask them.”
“Okay.” He slips a hand around my neck, craning my head closer to his, rendering me powerless with his touch. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
“How about you answer some of the hundreds I’ve asked you first?”
“Your ex-husband’s firm owed me money,” he says. “That’s how we know each other. Satisfied?”
“How much money?”
“An excessive amount.”
“Can I get a ballpark figure?”
“After you tell me that you’ll unpack your bag.”
“Fine.” I shrug. “I’ll unpack it.”
“Good.” He pulls a few hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and slips them into my pocket. “I don’t like the idea of you paying for anything, so use those, and I’ll see you soon.”
“What about—”
He presses a finger against my lips before I can ask the question.
“Twenty-six million dollars,” he says, looking upset, but then his expression softly shifts as he steps back. “I’ll be waiting for you at the estate.”
I nod, my mind spinning from the amount as he walks away.
“Oh, and Autumn?” he says, looking over his shoulder.
“Yes?”
“Don’t ever pack another bag to get away from me…”
End of Episode 10
Close to the Vest
EPISODE 11
Ryder
Several hours later
Delete security footage from Walmart cameras
Run the license plate from Kylie’s car
Handle truck driver’s disloyalty
Figure out how the hell I missed Autumn’s past
My mental to-do list is usually addressed in order, but I’m making an exception today.
I can count the number of times that someone has surprised me on one hand, and Autumn is responsible for all three occurrences.
Any other employee would be dealt with harshly for even thinking to request time off, but I can’t help shielding her from some of the darkness. For now.
Pressing play on her detainment from Canada, I watch as two guards escort her into a cold interrogation room.
The walls are painted cinderblock grey, the only light a buzzing fluorescent that casts a harsh strobe across her face. A single plastic chair waits for her under its spotlight, and the air feels sterile—even through the screen.
She walks in slowly, staring blankly at the wall, her expression unreadable.
“It is best if you sit here and say nothing,” the lead guard says in French. “Our detectives will be with you shortly.”
“Please, wait,” she says, her voice soft but precise in perfect French. “Can’t you at least tell me what I’ve done?”
“Shut up.” He glares at her. “Just shut up.”
The brunette guard sets a plastic bag on the metal table in front of her—wads of U.S. and Canadian currency crammed inside like trash.
“This is all fake,” she says. “And we know you were the one who created these. It’s best if you shut the fuck up until your representative arrives.”
The guards abandon her without another word.
Autumn leans forward and picks up the bag. Slowly, she pulls out the bills one by one, inspecting them—not with guilt, but curiosity. She runs her thumb across the ink like she’s testing its authenticity herself.