Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He kisses my neck, wrapping an arm around my stomach. “I didn’t know you’d been?”
I pause, hesitating. Whoops. That was fucking sloppy.
“The champagne was Dom Pérignon. And the executives were boring as shit.” His hand lands on my waist, and he pulls me back into him. Devon loves to be touchy. A lot. Kind of miss the part about Parker where he fucking despised me as much as I did him.
“I missed you.” His groan vibrates through my body.
I hum, noncommittal, and pop another carrot into my mouth.
When I don’t answer, he brushes his lips over my ear. “Did you miss me?”
No. “Obviously.”
Devon laughs against my neck, before he releases me to grab a beer from the fridge. I watch him in my peripheral as the news station drowns out his words.
He doesn’t notice.
I finish chopping the vegetables and slide them into the waiting pot on the stove.
My eyes flick to the corner again, meeting that blinking red light like an old friend.
Devon leans against the counter, beer in hand, watching me stir. “You seem different.”
“Different how?” I sweeten my tone, praying he backs the fuck up.
He takes a slow sip of his beer. “I don’t know. Fitter. Have you been working out more?”
Every day. Six hours minimum. Combat training in the morning. Weights in the afternoon. Cardio at night until my lungs burn and my legs give out and I’m too exhausted to dream about pale blue eyes and scarred throats.
I shrug, playing nonchalant. “A little.”
Devon’s mouth curves, his bottle clicking once against the granite. “It suits you.”
I don’t answer. The fuck does he mean it suits me? I know it suits me.
Movement catches the corner of my eye as Daniel’s silhouette passes. He lifts a hand in a subtle signal that only I know means we got a problem.
I turn the elements off. “Be right back.”
Devon barely glances up from his phone. “Where are you going?”
“Just need to chat with my assistant.” Daniel is the most unserious assistant ever. I can’t believe I didn’t dignify him with a more accurate job description. He also doesn’t find it funny.
I wipe my hands on the dish towel, toss it over the chair, and slip through the glass doors, pulling my cardigan tight against the cold. Winter is a cruel bitch this year.
Daniel waits by the railing near the pool, posture loose but his eyes cutting right through me.
I stop in front of him. “What is it?”
Clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his beard. “The house.”
Of course it’s about the house. “What about it?”
“The buyer who fell through?” He watches me for a second. “It was Asher.”
My mouth snaps shut, fingers biting into my arms. “What?”
“The anonymous buyer. It was Asher. He purchased the house through a shell company, but Punk traced it back to him finally, or someone let her finally trace it back…”
He bought my house.
“There’s more.” Daniel’s voice drops. “He’s here. Arrived in Veilarath this morning.”
I blink. “On what side?”
If I didn’t know this man, I’d say he looks pressed. “Ah, this side. And he’s not alone.”
The world goes quiet as I say her name, needing to hear it even though I already know. “Camille?”
Daniel nods, lips pulled tight.
My eyes close as I breathe in the setting sun, hoping it’ll distract me from feeling that familiar pulse of rage returning. Hello, old friend.
Of course they jumped all the way into whatever they had. Everything was fake with you.
I grit my teeth. “But it’s my birthday weekend.”
“I know.” Daniel winces, the wrinkles on his face deepening. “Pretty sure he knows too…”
“Oh,” I laugh, but I kill it before it gives me away. “He does.”
My fingers find the choker, grazing fresh scars from where I tried everything Google and TikTok recommended I do to remove it. Be great if this fucking thing was fake too.
I open my eyes and stare out at the snow cloaked yard. At Mount Crow that has always felt like mine despite how hard I pretend I don’t want it.
Let him come. Let him see Devon in my kitchen and a version of me he doesn’t recognize anymore. He doesn’t know Devon is a job. He could be my forever home, that’s why he’s in Veilarath and we’re not in the US. I want him to see that the girl he broke doesn’t exist anymore.
I killed her myself.
Daniel interrupts my thoughts. “You want me to see what I can do?”
“No.” I turn back toward the house. “It’s fine. I’m sure we can figure out the house issue while he’s here.”
Through the glass, Devon is still at the counter, head bent over his phone, blind to everything unraveling around him, but especially to the red light flashing in the corner.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I open the group chat.
Punk: Oh no, homie…
Shut up and fix this.