Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Female peacocks aren’t the colorful ones. It’s the males that put on a show.”
“I know that.” She rolls her eyes and smacks me lightly on the shoulder. “It was a metaphor.”
“I like this escalation to physical violence, Red. It’s healthy to let out your feelings, I hear.”
“Physical—What are you even—” She looks aghast.
“The foot stomping and this shoulder.” I mock a wince. “I got a bruise about the size of Texas here already. If you keep pounding away at me, you might put me outta commission. You better be careful.”
Her mouth drops open, and then her eyes narrow. “Oh, I’ll keep pounding away at you.”
Then her cheeks go pink like she just heard the innuendo in those words. She smacks me on the shoulder again, then whacks me on my chest with her other hand.
I grin wider than I have all day. “Fairly sure this is how girls flirted with me when I was in junior high.”
“Ugh!” She pulls back and crosses her arms over her chest. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re infuriating?”
I chuckle. “I mighta been told a time or two.” Damn, I feel almost giddy sitting here in this back seat with her. Light in a way I can barely remember. Makes me wanna keep tugging on her metaphorical ponytails for forever.
But alas, we pull into the driveway of a huge ass mansion. I let out a low whistle.
“Damn, Red. I knew you were loaded, but I didn’t know you were Domhnall-level loaded.”
“No one’s Domhnall-level loaded,” she says, her voice suddenly tight.
When I glance back over at her, I can see she’s gripping the edges of the seat so hard her knuckles have gone white.
“Hey,” I say, concerned. “You okay? I know there’ll be a lot of people, but I won’t let you out of my sight. I swear I’ll keep you safe tonight.”
She lets out a mirthless laugh. “As if.”
I glance back to the mansion and wonder what she’s seeing that I’m not. Then my eyes settle on the woman in white who’s just stepped foot out of the gigantic front door.
“Is it your mom?”
“I’ll be fine,” she says, swallowing hard, not taking her eyes off her mother.
Damn, this might be more of a wasp’s nest than I initially realized. Yeah, her mom always sounded like a bitch, but is there more to it than that?
Because Kira doesn’t just look anxious about a long night with an overbearing mother. She looks… scared.
“We don’t have to do this,” I say, reaching down and covering her small hand with my big one. “We can turn around right now and leave all this shit behind. You just say the word.”
She looks up at me in surprise. “What? I can’t.”
“Why the fuck not? She doesn’t own you. It’s a free country, Kira. You can do whatever the fuck you want.”
But I see the shadow come over her eyes. She quickly pulls her hand away from mine, and I don’t miss the chauffeur’s eyes on us in the rearview mirror. The second I catch him watching us, he glances away. The bastard’s been listening in on every word.
“It’s fine,” Kira whispers again. And then quieter, she says, “And she does own me. For eight more weeks anyway, until I’m married. But then I’ll be free.”
What the fuck? Is that why she’s getting married? And to some prick she doesn’t even love?
But before I can ask anything else, or better yet, demand some better fucking answers, we’re at the roundabout in front of the four-story mansion, and Kira is pushing her door open.
Her mother walks around and embraces her in an overly polite hug, their chests barely touching.
“Darling!” the woman says effusively. “We’ve waited so long for this day to come, and it’s here finally!”
Then she pulls back and holds Kira at arm’s length, examining her daughter critically. “Why is your face so puffy? I told Dawn at the spa to do a light peel.” Her thumbs go to Kira’s face, pulling and stretching her forehead. “And are these lines? I know I told her to do some touchups if you’d been looking tired from all that ridiculous studying you insist on. What have you done to yourself?”
I push out of the car, fed up. I can see Kira literally shrinking in on herself under her mother’s attention.
“Mrs. Roberts, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet. I’m Isaak, your daughter’s new personal security.”
Carol’s eyes skip over her daughter’s shoulder to land on me. It’s clear by the way her eyes skim over my black T-shirt and jeans, and her tightly Botoxed features scrunch the tiniest bit—probably the only expression of displeasure she’s able to make—that she’s not thrilled by what she sees.
I flash my biggest smile and walk up to her, holding my hand out. Her Southern upbringing won’t allow her to do anything but extend her hand in response. I grab hold and shake it good and hard in my big paw.