Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I’m fucking shocked this fucker has the audacity to call me and request something like this, but then again, Elyse means nothing to him. The law means nothing to him.
"I think you’ve lost your fucking mind, among other things. I’m not negotiating shit with you. There is no negotiation to be had. Elyse is a human being and in this world, we don’t buy and sell people via contract. We both know that contract with my grandfather would be a great piece of evidence should someone find out you decided to sell your daughter. It does have your signature on it.”
Putting the phone on speaker, I toss it onto the desk.
A soft, humorless laugh fills the space. "Sebastian. It would be in your best interest to make a deal with me. I know I don’t need to explain this life to you, but I have the means to make your entire life hell, as well as hers. Don’t make me do that. She’s suffered enough, don’t you think? We both know in your world of criminals my contract would be declared null at your grandfather’s death. You need to renegotiate since I never consented to anything such as marriage to my only beloved daughter.”
"I’m not scared of you.” I say, letting all the hate I feel for him filter into my voice. “And I won’t let you hurt her or even bring her into this. She’s mine. And that is fucking rich thinking you aren’t in this world as much as I am, or more.”
“She isn’t yours, and you can’t protect her any more than you can protect yourself. Don’t make this difficult.”
“I swear to God…” My voice trails off when a gasp, followed by the sound of glass shattering against the floor, catches my attention. I whirl around in the chair and spot Ely standing in the doorway with a mixture of fear and shock etched into her features. The bowl of cereal in her hands now covers the floor.
Shit. I quickly hit the end button on the call. "Hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay. I won’t let anything happen.”
There's a far away look in her eyes, and I don’t like it. She starts to tremble and wraps her arms around her waist, bunching my football T-shirt up around her hips in the process. Her bare feet are covered in milk, and all I can think is I have to protect her, shield her, remove her from the situation. Needing to touch her and calm her down, I cross the room and gently take her by the arms.
“Shhh, it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
She stares up at me through a sheen of tears then takes a wobbly step back while she pulls herself from my grasp. “Don’t touch me.”
All the anger I've been trying to keep a cap on surges to the surface and spills out of me.
"Don’t touch you? That’s not what you were saying last night. You act like I’ve hurt you, like I’m the one who did something wrong, but all I’ve tried to do was protect you.”
"Protect me? You were just talking to my father about me like I’m some fucking possession.”
I turn and face the desk, grappling for control over my emotions. "No, I wasn’t. You walked in at the end of the conversation. There is no denying your father might see you as a possession to be pawned off and bartered, but you’re so much more to me. You’re my wife. My fucking wife. And I would never do such a thing."
"That’s it. That’s all I am. Not a living, breathing, human. Just an item to be transferred back and forth?" She screams at my back and when I don’t answer she continues her verbal lashing. “I don’t want to be a piece of property, Sebastian. I don’t want to be just your wife. I want to be me. Elyse.”
“And you are…”
“I’m not. Ever since you forced me to marry you, I’ve done only what you want. I’ve been trapped inside that bedroom.” She frowns, “Killing Yanov didn’t set me free; it put me in a different kind of cage. You say you aren’t a monster, and maybe you aren’t as bad as him, but you’re one and the same. Instead of taking control altogether like he did, you offer me the illusion of control. I don’t want either of those things. I want to be happy. I want to be me.”
Something inside me cracks. Every ounce of control I have slips away. How can she compare me to that piece of shit? That abuser? It’s the only thing I hear. The only thing I see.
Whirling around, I march over to her and grab her by the arms, pulling her into my chest. She struggles at first but softens the moment my lips press against hers. The air surrounding us crackles and pops with energy. I kiss her with every ounce of fear and pain I’ve felt for her from the moment she was kidnapped from my bed. I pour all of those emotions into her, letting her feast on them and drown in them.