Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
“Well, I’m sorry she wasn’t there for you.”
His thumb moved across her knuckles in absent strokes. “Can I show you something? Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
The question carried more vulnerability than he probably intended, a flicker of the boy who had learned early on that people left when he needed them most.
“I’m exactly where I want to be.” She squeezed his hand. “What do you want to show me?”
“I just have to get my keys.”
Jack moved to the dresser and rummaged through a crystal dish on top, slipping his wallet into his pocket, followed by a tiny fob. When he picked up his gold ring, he paused.
The engraved initials caught the sun, glinting like the blade of a knife.
Daisy watched from the edge of the bed as his jaw tightened. She could see the war in the stillness of his hand, how his thumb traced the familiar groove of the letters like a tongue returns to a broken tooth.
That ring didn’t just live on his finger, it shackled him to a brutal past.
Her chest tightened the longer he looked at it.
Then, slowly, he set it back in the dish with a quiet click that resonated like a glacial shift.
He turned to her, hand bare with a pale indent where the ring had lived. There was a tentativeness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“I’m ready.”
She rose from the bed and crossed the room, proud of him. She didn’t stop until her arms closed around him in a tight hug. “I love you.”
He kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her. “Never stop, okay?”
“Okay.”
He took her hand and led her downstairs, pausing only to grab a jacket from the hook by the door. “In case you get cold.”
She smiled at his thoughtfulness.
Outside, the afternoon sun had climbed past the peak of the house, casting the driveway in shadows. He paused at the sight of her rental.
“Yours?”
“For now. I haven’t bought anything permanent yet.”
Jack opened the passenger door of a black Bentley parked beneath a limestone awning and waited for her to settle in before closing it with a soft, decisive click.
“Well,” she said when he climbed in behind the wheel. “This is much nicer than my rental.”
He glanced back at her little Kia as he backed up. “It better be.”
They crossed the long bridge that connected the island to the mainland, the Bentley gliding over asphalt while the sea glittered on either side in shades of pewter and glass. Jack drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh, his thumb tracing absent patterns on the faded denim as the Isles of Kassel shrank in the rearview mirror.
“You know,” she said, breaking the silence. “Kassel isn’t on Google Maps.”
“It’s a perk. Pay enough, and you can distort any reality.”
“I had to bribe the man who answered the phone at the Seeds of Hope place to give me your address.”
He frowned. “What did you offer?”
“I told him to name his price.”
“And what did he say?”
“That’s between him and me.”
“It absolutely is not. Nick’s my employee.”
“He told me his name was Mr. Carrow.”
“Yes. Nick Carrow. And if you don’t tell me what his price was, I’m firing him tonight.”
She hated to betray the man who had been so helpful to her on the phone, but she also didn’t want to see him punished for helping her. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to say anything. I don’t want him getting in any trouble.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“That’s not the point. We formed an alliance of sorts.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
She smiled triumphantly. “He assigned me a book and made me give him my word I’d read it.”
Jack’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Which book?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.”
“Of course he did,” Jack muttered, clearly annoyed but not angry.
“Have you read it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
He hesitated. “I found it relatable.”
“How so?”
“You’ll understand when you read it.” He gave her a sideways glance and smirked. “Do your own homework.”
She crinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue. “Fine.” But after another long stretch of road, she asked, “Is Nick more than some guy you hired to run the foundation, Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“My mentor and closest friend.”
She settled in her seat, letting that little tidbit sink in. Another magical puzzle piece to clarify the mystery that was Jack Thorne.
The drive should have been awkward—two people who bared their bodies and souls now sealed inside a car with nowhere to hide from the enormity of what they’d done. But instead, the conversation unspooled the way it might have on a first date, had they met under ordinary circumstances in an ordinary world.
“Favorite food,” she said, angling toward him with her bare feet tucked beneath her on the leather seat.