Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Something is wrong with the fucker—my chest—because it’s moving. I probably need to consult with my doctor and have him check what the fuck is wrong with my head while he’s at it.
Because I truly and undeniably fucked the hell up.
It’s been a couple of hours since I drove her back to my place. She fell asleep in the car and didn’t stir when I carried her in my arms and tucked her in bed.
Usually, Dahlia sleeps in a fetal position, making herself as small as possible, but right now, her arms are thrown out on either side of her, taking up most of the bed. Almost like a child who’s exhausted after a busy day out.
Is it because she feels safe?
Because she’s tired?
Whatever the reason, I appreciate the view. And I like her here. In my bed. My space. My life, even.
I like it more than I believed would be possible.
Which is also part of the reason why I fucked up.
Last week, I thought I could cut things off without looking back.
I thought if I chopped off the branches, it’d all be over, but I failed to realize that she left her roots somewhere I didn’t know existed.
I thought I could threaten my teammates to stay the fuck away from her while ignoring her. They all know not to touch, flirt, or even talk to her outside of work-related issues.
Just because I let her go didn’t mean she was a free pass for them.
However, Dahlia had other plans and forced my hand.
She knew the one spot to hit with all her might—my illogical possessiveness toward her. And she didn’t pick just any guy to flaunt in my face.
No.
She went straight for the jugular and brought the one guy I already knew she’d dated. The one guy I saw her flirting with at my fucking game.
And she did that while looking mouthwatering in a dress I bought her, intending to rip it off her body.
When Osborn tilted her head back, his lips hovering an inch away from hers, I forgot about all the reasons why I should stay away from her.
I forgot that my father would kill her just to teach me a lesson.
I forgot all the mantras I kept repeating to myself about a greater purpose and higher fucking goals.
At that moment, all I wanted was to claim her and kill Osborn—which I would’ve done if Preston hadn’t interfered.
I couldn’t even wait to get her somewhere out of view. I had to own her then and there.
Make her mine again.
Only mine.
But now that the possessive edge has lessened, reality hits me, and I can’t ignore it anymore.
Dahlia Thorne has become a weakness.
One my father can use to dismantle me.
One that’s able to destroy all my plans.
But letting her go and allowing other fucks to touch her is out of the question, so I need to devise a plan to protect her.
I stand up and fetch my phone. After closing the bedroom door as softly as possible, I head to the living room and dial a number I thought I wouldn’t need this soon.
The town’s bright lights fill the distance as I stop by the floor-to-ceiling window, listening to it ringing.
He finally picks up, a sound of shuffles echoing on his end as he lets out a groan and speaks in a husky tone, “Ever heard of a thing called sleeping time?”
“Nice to hear from you, too, Uncle. I’m glad you missed me.”
“I’d miss you more during reasonable hours.” He lets out a sigh. “What do you want?”
“Your help.”
The sound of steps padding across the floor stops, and a long silence stretches between us.
“Since when do you ask for help?” he asks slowly, all sleep gone from his voice.
“Since I made a miscalculation.”
“Explain.”
I tell him about the Dahlia thing, and how the very fucking fact of her existence is ruining all the strategies I devised to bring Grant down.
So now that I’ve decided to keep her, I’m unsure whether or not I can proceed with my agenda. Uncle Kayden knows I’ve already won over half of the board members and that I’m working on the other half.
It was supposed to be a matter of months before I snatched the reins of power and brought back Uncle Kayden and all the other family members—mostly women—that my father kicked out.
Once I graduate and become a Founder member, I’d turn the tables on Grant, facilitate his being voted out by his own people, and then take over. Little by little, I plan to undo all his decisions and rebuild the Davenport name the way I see fit.
Truly, it’s Grant’s fault for having me be so involved in the company. He wanted to train me properly, but I’ve been using that chance to corner him.
My uncle listens without interrupting. While Kayden is Grant’s younger brother, they couldn’t be any more different. They also never really liked each other.