Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
My tears well again and I pull the car over, unable to see the road any longer. I put my elbows on my steering wheel and weep into my hands. My car rocks intermittently as the cars zoom past me at speed on the freeway. They have common interests; she loves horses like him. She lives in his house. They have a bond. He lied to me again. He takes her away and, oohh, the pain slices me again and I sob…New Year’s Eve. The lump in my throat begins to hurt as I hold in the tears. He spends them with her…every year. Margaret knew exactly her target tonight and she hit it in a bullseye, attacking my insecurities. My mind wanders back to the past New Years and I break into full-blown sobs. At twelve o’clock every year I have thought of him, wished he was here with me, and he was kissing someone else. Spending time with someone else…probably on frigging secluded islands and shit. Someone he cares about.
Out of the corner of my eye I see a man run up to the side of the car and I jump in fright. I quickly start my car and hit the central-locking button. Tap, tap, tap. To my horror, a man I have never seen before is tapping on the window. I start to panic until I see Josh’s bodyguards standing on the side of the road next to the car, which I now notice is parked behind me. My heart jumps and I quickly look around to see if he’s here, but of course he’s not. He’s with his bitchface mother. I slowly wind down my window and the guy has the gall to look embarrassed now that he sees I’m crying like a baby. He is in his early forties, bald and tough looking, and has the whole Bruce Willis vibe going on.
“Are you OK, Natasha?” He gives a sympathetic smile at me.
“Fine,” I snap as I wipe the snot from my nose on the back of my hand in such a feral manner I even surprise myself. “Who are you?” I demand.
He smiles and steps back, making eye contact with the other two. “Um, I’m your bodyguard,” he says quietly in an American accent, as if speaking to a child.
“What?” I scream. “I don’t have a bodyguard. Why in the hell do I have a bodyguard?”
“I’ve been with you for three weeks,” he whispers, thinking that would calm me down.
“What?” I scream. “Are you fucking kidding me? Why…how…I mean…are you serious?” I frown. This night has turned into the frigging twilight zone. My jaw is on the ground. “You have been following me for three weeks? I can’t believe it. How do I not know this?”
“Mr. Stanton organized it, ma’am.”
“Huh, ma’am. What am I, fifty?” My mind goes into overdrive and I get out of the car. “Why is the security so tight around Joshua?”
He frowns. “I’m sorry. I have specific orders not to divulge that information to you.”
“From who?” I snap.
“Ma’am.”
“Stop calling me that!” I scream.
“Um, OK. I think you should calm down.”
“Calm down…calm down…if you want to know who to guard tonight, guard Joshua, because I am going to fucking kill him.”
He steps back and smiles as if he knew I was going to say that. “Let’s just get you home safely, shall we, ma’am.” He turns me to push me back into my car.
“My name is Natasha, asshole,” I scream. “Don’t touch me.” I yank my arm free of his grip. I get back into my car and slam the door, taking off so fast I rev the shit out of my Honda.
17
Joshua
As I pull into my driveway my mother’s happy mood is sickening. I don’t have the strength to keep quiet much longer. I climb out and hit the lock button as she links arms with Will and begins to walk inside.
“A night of cocktails with my sons, how exciting,” she purrs. I roll my eyes at Cameron who puts a reassuring arm around my neck.
“Just keep quiet and don’t fight with her. You will only make it worse,” he whispers. I walk in behind them and head straight into the master suite shower. I can’t be around her at the moment. She makes me sick. How can she be in such a good mood after speaking to Natasha like that? She really does hate her. I blow out a breath as I put my head under the water. I hear the door shut and my eyes shoot up to see Cam sitting on the side of the bath with a beer in his hand. I turn my back to him and start to soap up.
“Do you mind?” I snap. I’m not in the mood for his shit either. He takes another swig of his beer but stays silent. He comes over to the walk-in shower and leans on the wall of the entrance with his shoulder, his face impassive. Obviously, he has something to say to me but is trying to word it correctly in his head.