Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
I'm quiet for a beat, digesting the information as the plane rises into the air. The situation is just so surreal that I'm not pounding on the windows and screaming like I would have expected. It all just feels so...inevitable.
"Dad told me that he wanted me to marry Charles to make sure I would be taken care of if anything ever happened to him, and because the marriage would fully integrate us into high society. He promised Charles would be gone ninety-nine percent of the time, and that he'd set me up on an estate I'd be able to run myself, have a studio to work on my art restoration..." I know I'm babbling, but that little slice of hope, the estate of my own and the studio, was all that had been getting me through the terrible reality of marrying Charles Beaumont. Knowing that it was a lie, that my father wasn't trying to set me up for safety and instead was using me as a pawn....that hurts more than the kidnapping. It's worse than the kidnapping.
"Your father spins a pretty little web of lies, doesn't he? He didn't want to 'set you up', he wanted to sell you. He has no more money, Elena. Not for the company, and not for you. As soon as the ink was dry on the marriage certificate, he'd have you begging your new husband to bail out the family business, and Beaumont would have likely done it, just to avoid the shame of his new wife coming from a destitute background. I'm sure all Beaumont would want in return was an heir." Adrian spat the last words in disgust.
I just stare at him, the hope that had kept me going for months shriveling up and dying inside me. "And if I'd said no to the marriage?"
Adrian's expression is grim. "Then Laurent would have found another way to use you to get what he wants. Your father is a desperate man, and desperate men do desperate things."
"Like kidnapping random women?" I snap, immediately regretting it, but Adrian only laughs, standing and walking over to the mini bar in the corner now that we were safely at cruising altitude on our way to...wherever we were going.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I am desperate. But while I plan on making sure your father suffers, it won't be like that for you. I've claimed you as mine now, and I take care of what is mine." He poured two fingers of amber liquid into a crystal glass and walked back over to me. “I appreciate what is mine, now, drink this."
"What is it?"
"Scotch. It will calm you down."
He holds it out to me. My hand is shaking so badly that I almost spill it. He doesn't comment, just waits until I've taken a sip. The liquid burns all the way down, but it does have the immediate effect of warming me from the inside out, loosening the knot of fear that's been tightening in my stomach.
"Good girl," he says, his voice a low murmur. He takes the glass from my hand and sets it on the small table between us. "You've had a long night. The bed is through there." He points to a door at the back of the cabin. "Get some sleep. We have a long flight ahead of us."
I just stare at him, my mind struggling to process everything. "But...where are we going?"
"Home," he says. I wait for more, but he stares out into the darkness, leaving me with that single, final word that tells me nothing.
He turns away, dismissing me as he sips from his own glass of scotch. It's a clear signal that our conversation is over. I get up, my legs feeling unsteady, and walk towards the bedroom. I expect him to stop me, to follow me, but he doesn't--
Until I'm almost inside the small room. Adrian must have moved silently, because I don't even hear him before I feel his large hand close around my wrist to stop me. Like he did before, he swipes his thumb over my cheek, his hand falling to rest on the back of my neck. "If you want company in there, just let me know." His voice is a low, intimate whisper against my ear, the hot breath sending goosebumps all over my body. For a moment, a truly insane thought pops into my head.
Maybe I am enjoying this…a little bit.
Instead of dignifying him with a response, I just wrench my wrist free from his grip and slam the door in his face, locking it for good measure. I lean my back against the door, my breath coming in ragged gasps. For a second, I can't tell if it's from fear or from the confusing jolt of electricity that shot through me when he touched me. The scotch is starting to work, my mind’s hazy and my limbs heavy.