Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Inside the room, there’s a computer, and a printer, and there on the desk as plain as day on the monitor is a photo covering the screen. A photo of someone jumping a fence with a house in the background.
My house. God, it’s…me.
The room starts spinning as I hear a beep and the front door opening, and it’s too late. I could hide, but why? I’m caught, and I am not even sure why I care. Something nefarious is going on here and sweat prickles over my skin and visions of that dungeon come back, but this time, it’s filled with zip ties and duct tape and clear plastic sheeting.
I’m about to be on the wrong end of a Dexter episode.
I decide to take this bull by the horns and I step out of the room, facing down the man that could have his baby growing inside me already, which for a second, makes me believe he’s not intending on killing me. But there are worse things than death.
Hudson’s gray eyes narrow when he sees me. “Hey, baby, guess what I’ve—” Concern flashes across his hard features as he clicks his teeth together, looking over my shoulder, then swallows, focusing on me, and I think I’m about to faint.
I’m pretty sure I’ve been kidnapped by a stalker who might have killed the real owners of this house and has some delusions about being my father and owning this place.
He was driving a Bentley though...
God, I’m so confused. But despite all that, the expression of sorrow on his face makes me want to go to him. To hug him. To tell him I love him, and it’s all going to be all right.
I don’t notice the bags he’s carrying until he drops them with a thud on the floor. Bags from toy stores, lingerie stores, adult stores… I scan them all, then snap my eyes back to his, wary but still somehow not running out the front door into the dark night.
“Baby, it’s not what you think.” He takes a step forward, and I take one back, and the hurt on his face is almost more than I can bear.
“Who are Jackson and Chastity?” I ask, that question foremost in my mind right now. The photo of me? Sure, that’s a concern, but I want to know that happy looking couple is still alive.
“They own this house,” he says, simply, like he’s not ripping the world apart with those words.
“I thought you owned this house,” I accuse him.
He nods. “I know you thought that. I let you think it. But I never told you—”
“Are they alive?”
“Alive? Fuck, yeah, I think so. Why, do you know something I don’t? The cops come by, what’s going on?”
“I just need to know. Are they alive? Please answer me.”
“Of course they are. Jackson is my employer and my best friend. They’re in Aruba. I’m watching the house and managing the renovation while they’re gone. That’s it. You think I killed them?”
He takes another step forward, and this time I don’t retreat. He’s not lying, I feel it down in my belly.
“What about the photo of me? Were you following me to the strip club? Is that why you were there? To kidnap me?”
He steps forward again, almost to within reach, shaking his head. The tension between us softens as he loops one hand behind my neck with a first squeeze. “Baby, look in my eyes. That strip club was a coincidence. My friend Wilson owns it. I believe God or the Devil or some cosmic force delivered you to me. Yeah, I took that photo the night before the club. I was going to find you and figure out what I could do to make sure you always had everything you ever wanted or needed. And sure, that makes me a stalker. Or, a would be stalker, but I can’t let you go. I can never let you go. That’s not a threat, it’s just how it’s going to be. No one will ever have you but me. Your sweet strawberry shortcake there has cast a spell on me for which there is no antidote.” He cocks an eyebrow, looking down at my crotch, then winks. “Sorry, baby, Daddy’s got you, and he’s never letting you go.”
He kisses the top of my head and I try to stay mad, I really do. I know, deep down, I should be walking out of the door right now and not looking back. I should probably be taking out a restraining order.
But there is no part of me that wants that.
Instead, I fall into that wide, welcoming chest that already feels like home and listen to the sound of his thump, thump, thumping heart. But there’s another sound.
Coming from the bags and boxes.
No, it’s outside the door.
“Oh my god.” I pull back, listening, and hear it again.