Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
She feints a move toward the door, and he’s on her, tossing her to the bed. He lands on her, ripping off the teddy, and then he’s kissing her. Mouth, neck, breasts.
No biting.
Why the heck does that go through my head? I try to keep from throwing up as they have sex. Twice.
Watching his body move against hers, into hers, has a dark rock settle in my stomach. I shouldn’t care. This happened before we even met, and it’s not like we’re married. He’s neither gentle nor rough with her, but they both get off. Twice.
Relief takes me when it’s over, and I look with trepidation at the remaining discs.
I can’t believe this. I feel sick to my stomach. I call Ella, and she doesn’t answer. Muttering, I shake my head. What is wrong with her? I leave her another message. “Hey, Ella. Call me back. I’m getting worried.” I click off, and then I note I have a text. Relief begins to fill me as I press the buttons for text, and then my heart sinks as I see it’s not from Ella, but from Alana. I click it.
ALANA: Hey, hon. Thorn squired me away for a few days in Mexico. We’re having a great time. You and Ella can join if you want. Let me know, because then I’ll tell Thorn.
I’m sure Thorn wants to keep Alana to himself for their little getaway.
ME: Thanks, but I’m in the middle of several cases. Have fun and don’t marry him until we can all be there.
Smiling, I click off. Maybe I should try to text Ella.
I press her name and look down. Wait a minute. Her last text says that she’ll meet me at Bernie’s Coffee House. What? I scroll up to see a text sent from me to her, telling her to meet me. What the hell? I didn’t do that.
I look at the time. It was very early that morning. When I was showering? Or when Alexei had come in? Betrayal slices through me faster than any sharpened blade. He texted Ella? Panic then grabs me by the throat. Why would he do that? No wonder she hasn’t texted me back. I call him and reach his voicemail. I want to yell, but I click off.
A text instantly arrives from him.
ALEXEI: I’m in the middle of a meeting at the bar. I’ll call you after.
The heck he will. I jump up and hurry out of my office. It’s after six, so most of the place is closed. I’m not surprised to find Garik once again in the waiting area.
“I thought you were supposed to wait downstairs,” I say, furious.
He looks up from reading a bridal magazine. My eyebrows lift. He shrugs. “It’s the only one I haven’t read in here. Alexei wants me closer to you than downstairs. This is where I’ll be. You’re lucky I’m not in your office.”
I’m so angry, I can barely breathe. “I want to go to the Amethyst right now.” I stomp toward the elevator and jab the down button.
Garik reaches me. “Alexei’s in the middle of a meeting.”
“I am well aware of that fact.” I barrel inside the elevator. “Take me to him now, or I’ll go there myself.”
Garik studies my heated face. “His phone is off or I’d call him. I have a feeling you’re about to make a big mistake.”
I growl as the doors close. “No. Alexei is the one who made the mistake.”
We make it to the car, and Garik drives silently through the city.
I’ve never in my entire life been this furious.
Garik pulls up in front of the Amethyst bar and leaps out to open my door. “Rosalie, everyone is still inside.” He nods toward lines of vehicles on both sides of the street. “Trust me and don’t go in there.” One of his large hands lands on my arm
I shrug him off and hustle toward the door, yanking it open. “You asshole,” I nearly shriek, stalking through a suddenly quiet room of men toward Alexei, who stands near the bar.
He pauses in saying something and looks at me, his black eyes glittering.
Pain and terror rip through me. Ella is every bit as close to me as a sister. In fact, she is my sister. And I know he took her. I keep moving, becoming aware of the tension choking the atmosphere.
Men, at least twenty of them, are seated throughout, at tables, all dangerous and all watching me.
My stride hitches but I keep moving. Perhaps this is a bad idea.
I falter.
Alexei’s arm snakes out, and he hauls me to his side, his heated arm unrelenting around my waist. “Men, this is Rosalie Mooncrest.” His voice holds no warmth. No familiarity. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I apparently have something to handle.” He nods at a fifty-something man in light-gray suit near the pool tables. “Sergio, finish cataloging all of our assets.”