Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
She suddenly sits up a little straighter. “And you know what else sucks?”
“What?”
“Well, Clarissa, my other boss, and pretty much my best friend—in Virginia, anyway—she doesn’t even know I was fired. Right before she left for her out-of-town meeting, I was talking to her in the lobby, and she thought Mr. Sutter was gonna promote me!”
“He’s the asshole?”
“Yeah. The one who fired me. She was all, ‘You’re getting promoted!’ and I was all, ‘What? But what about you?’ And then she was all, ‘Oh, this is my promotion! I’m taking over Boston!’ And I was all, ‘OMG! I’m so happy for you!’ And then she was all—”
“Clover?”
“Huh?”
“I don’t care.”
She scoffs. “Well, sor-ree. My mistake. Sorry this is the worst day of my life and instead of whining and complaining to my best Disciple friend, I’m a prisoner in my own house, stuck here with you.” She blows out a long breath and leans back in her chair, kicking her bloody feet out in front of her.
I smile. Just a little. And only because she can’t see me. “You’re taking this kidnapping thing better than most.”
She makes another face. This one is shock, I think. “How many times have you done this that you have an expected outcome in mind?”
“You’re actually my very first prisoner.”
“Huh.”
“You’re surprised?”
“Well, you’re pretty liberal with your threats, buddy. And, by the way, they were very colorful. You threatened to kill me and stuff my dead body into the trailer, leave me to die and decay in my own basement, and throw me down the stairs.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“Well.” She exhales so hard, the t-shirt fluffs up around her mouth. “I don’t think you’re serious.”
I scoff. “You would be wrong. You have no idea how badly I need this job to go well. I don’t care how cute you act, little princess. This ploy of yours? It’s not gonna work. If it comes down to me or you, I choose me, Clover. So don’t get too comfortable.”
CHAPTER 5 - CLOVER
Ican hear the threat in his voice. I actually do believe him. About all of it. The killing, the decaying body, and the stair-pushing. But again, the only thing I have is me. Myself. My cuteness. This is my weapon so I have to use it. Because I refuse to let this man turn the worst day of my life into the last day of my life.
There is a bit of desperation in his voice when he talks about this job he’s doing. Even now, when he’s much more relaxed than he was this morning, I can hear it. He’s serious about completing it.
But there’s still something there I can work with. Yes, he was mad when he opened the basement door, but he gave in to the idea of water and a bathroom break fairly easily.
Yes, he did watch me in the bathroom, but he turned around at the last moment.
That’s why I didn’t drink the tap water in the bathroom. Sure, the water from the tap did smell a little off, and I grew up in that house so I know that it turns a bit rusty if it hasn’t been run in a while.
But it would’ve run clear, and been just fine, if I had given it another minute. I just replaced the well pump and pressure tank last year—to the tune of fifteen thousand dollars, thank you very much. I even got a reverse osmosis system, so the water had better be good, for fuck’s sake. But if I had taken my drink right then in the bathroom, he would’ve put me back downstairs and I wouldn’t be sitting here in the kitchen, charming his pants off with an expressive retelling of how my bad day started.
I mean, fine. I’m probably not charming him. Yet. But at least he’s not yelling threats at me.
His chair scrapes across the floor and I know he’s gonna stand up and this little reprieve will be over, so I hurriedly say, “Hey.”
“What?”
“What about my feet?”
His pause here indicates that he’s looking down at them. “What about your feet?”
“Aren’t they bloody?”
“They are.”
“So… don’t you think I should clean them up? And do you have any lip balm? I could really use some lip balm.”
He stands. Scoffs. Laughs. “You did all that to yourself and those feet of yours are already starting to scab. You’ll be fine. Come on, it’s time to go back down.”
Then he’s gripping my arm—tight—and pulling me up from my chair.
“Wait!” I’m desperate now and it’s coming out in my tone. “What about… can I change my clothes?”
“The next thing you’ll ask for is a shower.”
I brighten at the idea. “Can I have a shower?”
“Only if I can take it with you.”
My heart skips here. Because while I am sorta flirting with him, it’s absolutely, one-hundred-percent fake and only for the sake of my own self-preservation. “Um…”