Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“She said you need me at your side.”
He stops walking and looks down at me. Passion etches his every feature. “She’s not wrong,” he says huskily. “Even if that’ll hurt you to hear.”
“It doesn’t hurt me, Raiden,” I say.
It scares me. If I feel the same, this is going to get far more complicated. Perhaps that’s why I ask a low, cruel question. “How are we going to arrange payment if this ends early?”
His tone turns cold. “You’ll be paid in full regardless of the outcome.”
CHAPTER 20
RAIDEN
Ilie awake, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the power to go out or for someone to scream again. The last time I checked the time, it was two AM. I haven’t checked in a while.
Aurora lies beside me, whimpering in her sleep as the storm rages outside. It must be the worst storm this island has seen in decades, maybe ever with the howling wind that attacks the mansion, rattles its frame, and slams against the windows.
When Aurora insisted she wanted to stay here, I thought it meant something. I thought we’d crossed a threshold. It’s not like I think we’re suddenly going to become the characters we’re playing.
Obsession. Instant attraction. Love at first sight.
Those are things for our public-facing roles.
But when I heard the pain in her voice and saw the terror in her face, I thought there might be something else, something real. Then she mentioned the money, and my stomach dropped. My mood went instantly dark.
I’m an idiot for even caring. We’ve shared some heat. She ignites my body, no doubt there, but when it comes to something real, I’m not sure what I’m thinking, exactly, not sure what I can reasonably expect.
Lightning cracks. She whimpers and digs her fingernails even firmer into my abs.
“I… can’t,” she moans in her sleep.
“Hush.” I kiss the top of her sweaty head. “It’s just a bad dream.”
“Puh-please,” she groans. “Please don’t let this happen. Oh, God. God.”
“It’s okay,” I mutter, wondering if I should wake her.
“I can’t… lose… him,” she says in a raspy, urgent voice. “Please. Not now. Don’t take him from me.”
She makes another heartbreaking noise full of pain. Should I gently shake her awake? She’d probably be pissed if she knew I was listening to her talk about me in her sleep.
Or maybe it’s not about me. Perhaps she has a boyfriend. Or maybe her nightmare is about her father.
The boyfriend angle somehow seems impossible. I’m probably a naïve idiot for thinking that, but I can’t imagine her lying to me about not being in a relationship. She doesn’t seem like the cheating type.
She makes my decision for me when she suddenly bolts upright, letting out a cry. “Raiden!” She gasps.
“I’m here,” I tell her softly, bringing her into my arms.
“I had a dream, but it… it was like before, but it was you. The dead man. They didn’t get the wrong person. They got you.” She holds onto me tightly as if to assure herself I’m really here. I inwardly caution myself to relax. When she fully wakes up, she might push me away. “But you’re here.” She lets me go slowly and sits back on her pillows. “Sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I do,” she says. “Coming on strong. Backing off. Repeat.”
“You’re not the only one guilty of that.”
“Death does funny things to a person,” she murmurs.
“I struggle to think of truer words,” I say. “Don’t worry. I know that not wanting someone to die and wanting to be with them are two different things.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulder, and guide her to my chest. She rests her cheek against my pec. “Your heart is always beating so fast.”
“Only when I’m around you,” I tell her.
“Ha ha, sir,” she says sarcastically.
“I’m not joking,” I tell her. “My body goes nuts when I’m around you, loses all sense of propriety and time and place. A man is dead, and maybe the knife was meant for me. Even now, my body doesn’t know how to calm the fuck down.”
“I’m the same,” she says softly. “Maybe this is what people mean when they talk about chemistry.”
“It must be,” I reply. “Whatever it is, I’ve never felt it before.”
“Really?” she whispers softly.
With the storm raging outside, it feels intimate inside, somehow easier to talk and share. To be vulnerable. I’m not sure how much that has to do with the storm or if it’s just Aurora.
“Really,” I say, kissing the top of her head.
“That’s nice… sir.”
“That’s a good defense mechanism,” I say. “I like it. Anytime things get too heavy, call me sir, and remind me what we are when you strip everything else away.”
“You see right through me,” she murmurs. “But let’s not pretend you don’t like being called sir. Your heart beats even quicker when I say it.”