Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
My hands tremble.
My chest aches.
I hate him.
I hate this house.
I hate the part of me that still remembers what it felt like to love him.
I close my eyes, swallowing down the panic.
“It’s just this house, this space . . .” I whisper to myself, like a mantra. “It’s survival. It’s nothing.”
Sure, it is . . .
Or it’s something. Something that won’t change even if a million miles separates us.
48
Victoria
I sit at the long table with my arms crossed. I’m still wearing yesterday’s sweater, and if I’m being honest, I’m also still in a bad mood.
My foot bounces under the table.
I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin. There’s no reason for me to be worked up, but I am.
Across from me, Lorenzo reads something on his phone. It’s infuriating how calm he is. He’s got his damn elbow on the table, and untouched coffee in front of him, and hair still damp from a recent shower.
The kicker . . .
He hasn’t looked at me once.
Not once.
Which somehow makes everything worse.
I clear my throat loudly.
Nothing.
I shove my plate away; the porcelain scraping against the wood. The jarring sound gets his attention.
Despite everything, he takes his time acknowledging my existence. His gaze lifts so damn slow, I want to punch him. He’s trying to piss me off. I know he is. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Lorenzo is baiting me for a fight.
Insufferable asshole.
“Something wrong with your eggs?” His smooth voice is conversational, as though he didn’t almost kiss me last night while simultaneously egging me on for a battle.
Did I mention I hate him?
I lean forward, palms flat on the table. “I need to leave.”
One brow lifts. “You just got here. You’ve barely touched your breakfast.” He gestures toward my plate.
I bite the inside of my cheeks while counting to five slowly in my head so I don’t throw something at him, most likely my plate.
“My parents’ house,” I clarify, each word clipped. “I need to go to my parents’ house.”
Silence stretches. Long and tedious.
Lorenzo sets his phone down. “No.”
My jaw tightens. “I wasn’t asking.”
“You don’t get to not ask.” He folds his hands. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to do anything, Little Bird.”
“That’s how you think this works?” I push back from the table and stand. “I’ve been trapped in this house with guards who won’t speak to me, cameras in every corner, and a husband who, quite frankly, sucks. I need to see someone, even if that someone is my mother.”
His eyes sharpen. “There’s staff.”
“I can’t talk to them,” I fire back. “They report to you.”
“Well, technically, they report to the house manager,” he corrects coolly. “There’s a difference.”
“Not to someone who’s locked in,” I shoot back.
He rises slowly, the chair barely making a sound as he stands. The movement draws my attention in a way I hate. Damn him and his broad shoulders.
“You’re not locked in,” he responds. “You’re protected.”
I laugh, but the sound holds no humor. “That’s a cute lie. Did you practice it in the mirror?”
He steps closer to the table. “Don’t forget, the roads are closed.”
“Then fly me out,” I snap. “I’m sure you can steal a helicopter. Maybe a plane. You’re a criminal after all.”
His mouth curves. “Absolutely not. Can’t risk it.”
My chest tightens. “Yes, you can. I want my mother. I want my father. I want someone who’s not you.”
His jaw flexes.
Good. That hit a nerve.
If he’s mad at me, there is less chance he will associate with me, and then I won’t do something stupid like kiss his smug face.
“I’m a hostage,” I say, voice shaking despite my best efforts.
The word hangs there, ugly and honest, and he moves faster than I expect. In two strides, he’s around the table, closing the distance until I have to tilt my head back to look at him. Heat radiates off his body.
“Watch your mouth,” he commands.
I swallow, then lift my chin. “Make me.”
The air between us snaps tight. I know I should stop taunting him, but I can’t bring myself to quit. Instead, for a second, I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like if he took away my choice and just kissed me.
A soft sigh falls from my lips. Against my lips, I can almost feel the ghost of something touching my skin.
My lids flutter open, and my gaze collides with Lorenzo’s. His pupils are huge and dark. The depth and longing appear endless. He looks like he might devour me.
I step back, heart racing.
Get yourself together.
I take a deep breath and rein in my emotions. Remembering what I was trying to say before I got sidetracked by need and want.
“I never did anything to you.” The words spill out of my mouth with a raw intensity I don’t normally show. “I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve to have my life ripped apart because you decided to punish me.”