Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
When I remain silent through the sheer force of my self-control, a small smirk tugs on his lips. “Now, tell me what you thought wasn’t real.”
“A nightmare,” I say quietly, because if I speak any louder, I’ll be snapping at him. He’s provoking me so he can get the number of my punishments higher, and I won’t give him that satisfaction.
His finger taps against his thigh once. “What type of nightmare?”
“None of your business.”
“And that’s seven.”
“What?”
“Eight.”
“Am I not even allowed to keep my nightmares to myself?”
“Not since you stepped into my house, no.” He drops the phone to his lap, places both of his elbows on his knees and leans forward, interlacing his fingers under his chin.
Even though it’s dark, I can almost see the blackness of his eyes. It’s not only something visual, but it can also be tasted in the air, leaving a sharp tang on my tongue.
“You don’t seem to grasp the situation, so let me explain it to you for the last time, Lia. You’re my wife, my property, my thing. That means you walk the line I trace and make the decisions I allow. If I say you leave your will at the door, you do. If I say you will walk blindly into a well, you will. In my house, my word is law and my decisions are final. If you feel the need to defy me, by all means, do. I’ll enjoy every second of whipping you into submission.”
My jaw aches, and I realize it’s because I’ve been clenching it tight during the entire time he spoke. I’ve never felt the need to bolt out of my skin like I do in this very moment. I want to fly out of here, to go somewhere, anywhere, where his presence isn’t squeezing my throat with imaginary hands.
But the sane part of my brain knows that I have no choice, that I can’t handle life in prison, no matter how tough I think I am. Being with him isn’t a choice, it’s the only means of survival I have.
Isn’t fate cruel? Why is my safety linked to one of the most dangerous men alive?
Adrian rises, and I scoot farther into Jeremy’s side, as if a child will be able to help me in this situation.
“Get up,” he orders.
“Why?”
“Nine. With every second you don’t stand, the count will increase.”
“I’m just asking,” I try not to snap, but end up doing it, anyway.
“Ten. At this rate, you will have a long night, Lia.”
I don’t miss the hint of sadism when he says ‘long.’ The bastard really gets off on the thought of punishing me.
He’s a freaking deviant.
I scramble to my feet because I really don’t want the count to get to eleven.
“Follow me.” Adrian heads to the door without waiting for me.
I chance a glance at Jeremy’s peaceful sleeping face, hoping I can somehow become one with his mattress or his covers.
My hesitation doesn’t last long as I follow in Adrian’s footsteps and quietly close Jeremy’s door behind me.
My legs shake with every step I take. Sweat gathers on my brow, and my knuckles turn white from constantly clenching them into fists.
People say they know fear. Like when their car almost crashes or when they witness a gory scene on the streets, but that’s not true fear. The actual horror is the unknown.
Ignorance about one’s fate is the worst type of terror.
It tangles around my ribcage like wires, attempting to break the bones and prick my heart in the process.
The darkness isn’t scary; what’s inside it is. And right now, that darkness is filled with Adrian’s quiet but lethal presence.
My gaze remains focused on his back, on the rippling of his muscles beneath his shirt and the ink peeking from underneath his half-rolled sleeves. His strides are steady, as if this fucked-up situation is normal.
As if picking up a homeless woman and forcing her into his wife’s role is something completely acceptable. Does the man ever feel? Does he have a beating organ like the one thudding inside me or is he a different species whose heart only pumps blood into his veins?
If he cared about his wife so much, how could he exchange her with a fake so easily?
But maybe he used her as he’s using me. Men like him don’t form attachments and are heartless monsters who only know how to take.
As Adrian steps into the bedroom and closes the door behind us, I wish fear was the only feeling inhabiting me. I wish the clenching of my stomach was because of a hit of adrenaline and not because of some other demented sensation I don’t want to put a name on.
Because I know he didn’t call me here just to sleep. I know that some savage plan is being concocted in his screwed-up head right now.