Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 123212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
I let out a heavy sigh. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep after that.
I pull out my phone and start searching for book two on Amazon and let out a relieved breath as I find it in the recent releases. Thank fuck. I need more of this world and Archer D’Ath.
Realizing that starting another book after four in the morning is just a little insane, I put my kindle down and try to find the energy to get up off the couch and make my way to bed, only I can’t.
What is it with these authors giving us these incredible books and the BAM, leaving us with blue balls and bullshit cliffhangers that have our tiny minds exploding with insanity? Fuck, if I ever meet that Tate James … damn, I’d have a few things to say to her.
Knowing sleep won’t be coming anytime soon, I grab the throw blanket off the back of the couch and pull it around myself as I stare off out the back window. The moon shines brightly in the night sky and reflects perfectly off the pool. It’s simply stunning. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this shit.
A noise out in the hallway has my head whipping around and my heart racing. Ever since there was a murderer and a rapist on the loose around here, I’ve been a little jumpy, but considering the rapist was after me and the murderer may or may not be the same guy who killed my father, it’s acceptable to be a little on edge.
I strain through the dark, watching and waiting as whoever is out there gets closer. My fingers curl around the edge of my Kindle. I’m more than prepared to use this bad boy as a weapon, but if it fucks up my Kindle, I’m going to be pissed.
A familiar figure crosses in front of the door and I let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, thank fuck,” I say, letting my head flop back to the couch as the relief sails through me.
The figure stops and turns at the sound of my voice. “Jade?” Colton questions, sounding a little unsure if he’s believing what he’s actually seeing. Though it’s not a far stretch, it’s nearly pitch black in here.
“Yeah,” I murmur into the dark room. “It’s me.”
He stops and walks into the room, keeping himself at a distance. “What are you doing?” he questions, flipping on a lamp as he passes and spreading a dim light through the room.
“I kinda got distracted reading a book,” I tell him. “I only just realized what time it was.”
“You read?” he grunts in surprise, his brows flying into his hairline.
“Kind of,” I say. “I read to distract myself from the bullshit of the real world. It’s not like an obsession or anything. Just something to do when there’s nothing keeping me interested on Netflix. What are you doing?” I ask. “It’s a little early for you.”
He pinches the edges of his grey tank and I allow my eyes to rake over his body. “Ahh, the gym. Right. As if your body needs work,” I say with a scoff, feeling like an idiot for not realizing the second he walked through the door.
His lips twist into a proud grin and I roll my eyes at him. He’s such a cocky fuck.
His whole schedule has been changing this week. He's been doing some school work through correspondence while spending his days locked in his father's office, trying to wrap his head around everything that he did. It’s not as though Charles left Colton a cheat sheet. He's been having to work it all out on his own and honestly, I’m kind of proud.
It’s only been a few days since the funeral but so far, Colton has been killing it as a badass CEO of everything Carrington. Hell, I don’t even know the business’ names or how many there are. I don’t even know what those businesses do, but I do know that watching Colton slay day in and day out gets me all kinds of hot and bothered.
“Come on,” he says, walking toward me and taking my hand. Butterflies swarm through my stomach as he pulls me up off the couch. “You need to go to bed. You have school in a few hours.”
“Oh, you haven’t heard?” I question, putting on the brakes. He looks back at me with his brows pinching in confusion. “Dean Simmons called me into his office before school on Monday morning and informed me that now your dad was gone, there was no obligation to keep me at BSA. He had my transfer slips already signed and approved without even thinking of mentioning it to me or Mom.”
“The fuck?” he grunts.
“Yeah, I apparently start at the girls’ school on Monday morning—not that Mom and I can afford the fees. I’ll have to change to whatever public school you guys have around here.”