Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Breakfast in the Hawthorn Suite?
You’re on, I replied.
Text me when you wake. Goodnight, darling.
Goodnight, honey. And thanks again for being awesome today.
No worries. Sleep well. You need anything, you know where I am.
Yeah, this guy was too good to be true.
I got in bed with my Kindle, but I did it with thoughts of our kiss.
And thoughts of what Ian told me while we were talking on the lounge.
I was tired, and the bath helped to relax me, but I knew what would unwind me the rest of the way.
I opened the drawer to put my phone on charge and grab the other thing that was in there, but found the drawer empty.
Except for a note.
In bold handwriting, it said, Don’t even think about it. If you want to use what was in here, you have to come fetch it. It’s in the Hawthorn Suite.
“I’ll be damned,” I whispered, smiling.
I pulled up my texts again, You’re a rascal.
He knew exactly what I was talking about. But of course he did.
I’ve noted it’s fully charged.
Plans have changed. Breakfast in the Rose Room. With you returning my precious belongings, I shot back.
Only if it’s breakfast in bed, he returned.
Such a flirt!
That can be arranged.
Go to sleep.
That’ll be hard without my friend.
I can return it now.
You wish.
I do.
My fingers work.
So do mine.
Gah! Talk about torture! I don’t know what to do with you!
Open to suggestions?
Go to sleep, Lord Alcott.
Sweet dreams, Miss Ryan.
Still smiling, I put my phone on charge, turned out the light and snuggled under the fluffy duvet on probably ten million thread-count sheets (by the feel of them, and I knew good sheets, these were the best).
And yes, my friend was awesome.
But with Ian’s kiss a ghost on my lips and visions of his chest dancing in my head, my fingers worked just fine.
I stood at the altar in my wedding gown.
There were so many flowers, you couldn’t see the church. Walls of flowers. Flowers covering the high, arched ceilings, petals ankle deep on the floor.
I looked to my groom.
It was Ian, his head turned the other direction.
I looked to my bridesmaids.
They consisted of Virginia, Dorothy, Joan and Margery, and they all wore mourning black, defiling the beauty of the flower-festooned sanctuary.
When I turned back to Ian, I saw he had one groomsman. But I couldn’t see his face. It was moving. Blurred. Like it was in perpetual motion, his head vacillating side to side so quickly I couldn’t make out his features.
It was nauseating.
Ian turned to me.
But it wasn’t Ian.
It was David.
He leered and became Thomas.
I lifted my skirt and turned to flee, and like a streak, a figure moved from the back of the church, down the aisle, to stand at the foot of the altar.
I couldn’t make out her face.
She was wearing a fur-trimmed coat and cloche hat.
“But what about Rose?” she asked me.
I felt something touch my cheek.
I woke.
The room was dark as tar.
But there was someone in there with me.
I knew it.
I felt it.
My blood ran cold.
“Ian?” I whispered, knowing it wasn’t him.
Whoever it was closed the drapes, and he wouldn’t do that.
Through the dark, I saw a shadow move.
Blonde hair.
No.
Platinum.
Oh my God!
I reached for the light.
It knocked my hand away.
I was awake.
This was real.
And whatever that was, was close enough to touch me.
Horror-stricken, I scrambled over the bed and fell off the other side, slamming my head into the nightstand.
Pain darted through my temple into my eye as I crashed to the floor.
The door opened and weak light came in from the hallway, but the bed was between me and it, and I couldn’t see.
Something trickled in my eye.
I dashed at it, and it was wet.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” I chanted, scurrying to find my feet and backing up.
I hit the wall and let out a scream.
The door remained open.
The hall was empty.
No one was anywhere near me except…that thing.
I scrambled to the bed, turned on the light, then crawled over the bed, turning on the other one. I opened the drawer, yanked out my phone, and shivering like a lunatic, I called Ian.
“Please don’t have do not disturb on, please don’t have—” I chanted as it rang, drawing my legs up and holding them to my chest.
“Daphne?” he answered, sounding sleepy.
“Someone was in my room,” I breathed, sounding as frightened as I was.
“Where are you?”
“In bed. They ran out. Down the hall.”
“I’m coming.”
“Ian, I’m not making this up. I saw them. It touched me.”
“I’m on my way, darling. Breathe.”
“It wasn’t a dream.”
“Breathe, Daphne.”
“I’m being very serious.”
“I can tell. Can you breathe for me?”
“I’m scared out of my mind.”
“I can tell that too,” he sounded funny, jerky, like he was running. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.”
I got one shaky breath into my lungs before I had my suspicions confirmed and Ian ran into the room.