Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
The phone continued the incessant ringing and she tipped her head back to stare at the glittery midnight sky. The stars were terribly blurry. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. Not just crying. Sobbing. Ugly crying. She didn’t try to stop. Her chest was so tight she felt actual pain in her heart. Her eyes and throat burned, felt raw. She could barely catch her breath; her lungs felt raw and starved for air.
There was no one around, and she gave herself permission to have a breakdown. She cried for Giselle Gentry, for Lawyer, for Helen. She cried for the girl who had disappeared and was most likely dead. She cried for Raine and Wilder. And she cried for herself.
She was a control freak, and she knew it. She kept her world very small and orderly and didn’t let many in because…well…just for this reason. Her life outside Knightly was total chaos.
“Mon rêve?”
The voice, softer than velvet, was so low she heard it as a whisper over her skin instead of a sound in her ears. He walked so quietly he seemed to be more jungle cat than human. Or maybe she was just crying too loud to hear anything.
Harlow covered her face with both hands. She wasn’t a pretty crier. She really wasn’t. She knew her eyes were red and swollen and her face blotchy. She was a redhead and had the very fair skin of a redhead. Crying put large splotches of color amid the white. Every freckle stood out in that horrible strawberry gold. She had far more freckles than most people thought, because usually they were faint. Not when she cried.
“Harlow, talk to me.”
She couldn’t. She shook her head and waved him back toward the open door. In fact, she pointed imperiously. She might have gotten away with it, but just then, she hiccupped, and another gut-wrenching sob was torn out of her.
Wilder loomed over her, lifted her right out of her swing chair, sank into it and cradled her on his lap. One hand went to the back of her head to press her face against his chest. He rocked the chair gently, holding her safe in his arms, his chin on top of her head.
“I’ve got you, Harlow.” He whispered the promise against her temple, lips moving against her skin. “You’re safe here. You aren’t alone.”
The phone continued to ring and ring. Hang up. Ring again. Harlow squeezed her eyes closed as tight as she could, wishing the screaming in her head would drown out the sound. Instead, she snuggled closer to Wilder, allowing the heat of him to seep into her body. His strength surrounded her like a fortress, and his energy, peaceful and serene, calmed her.
How often had he quietly stood with her? Reassured her? He was always the calm in the center of her chaotic world. She had known him only two years, but he’d been consistently in her corner. There had never been a single time that he hadn’t stood for her.
Harlow rubbed her face against his shirt, over his heart. That steady rhythm was like him. Reliable. Comforting. She ran her palms up his chest and circled his neck with her arms. He hadn’t once told her to calm down, that she was acting like a hysterical, dramatic female. He hadn’t acted impatient with her. He was gentle and comforting, nothing like her father. She concentrated on shutting down the waterworks, and while she did, she thought of the times she’d been annoyed with Wilder. He had no problem with getting his way when he thought he was right. And he did so physically. When he believed she was in danger, he gave an order once, and if she didn’t comply, he simply picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder and proceeded to take her out of the situation, ignoring her protests.
She had resented him for those few times he bossed her around. She’d told herself he was overbearing and far too dominant for her. She couldn’t live with someone like Rainier, and Wilder’s personality was very close to Rainier’s. But Wilder and Rainier were nothing like her father. Nothing. She thought of all the times Wilder had stepped in front of her to protect her. He’d shielded her, and she didn’t doubt that he always would.
“Why are you always so good to me?” The question came out muffled because her lips were pressed against his chest—his heart. She loved the way his heart sounded so strong, and the heat of his body made her feel warm and cozy.
“Because you deserve it. You deserve the world.” He glanced at the phone. “Is that what’s making you cry?”
She hesitated but decided on the truth. “It’s a combination of things. That just might be the catalyst.”
“Why don’t you block them? Or turn off the ringer so you can’t hear?”