Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
“It’s okay.” He takes my hand and kisses the tip of my finger. I jerk it back from his hold. “Sorry.” Why is he saying sorry? I hurt him, after all. My eyes start to sting with tears. “Oh shit, no. Please, don’t cry.” Rich’s eyes grow wide.
A knock sounds at his door before it starts to open. I bury my face back into his neck. “I heard a scream,” a soft voice says.
“I think she had a nightmare, but now she’s about to cry.” Rich sounds panicked.
“What happened to your face?” the woman asks.
“I’m sorry!” I burst into tears. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Don’t cry. Jesus. Please,” Rich says. I keep my face pressed to his neck.
“You can’t order her not to cry. Not really how that works, Rich,” the woman says.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“I think you’re okay. She’s wrapped around you like a koala bear.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter again.
“Dollface, there is nothing to be sorry for.” He starts running his hand up and down my back.
“I think I should go. Leaving this tray over here,” I hear the woman say before the door closes again. I relax a fraction.
“I’ll lock the door so people can’t just walk in. I have a nosy family that wants to be helpful,” Rich tells me.
“I’m sorry.” I can’t stop apologizing.
“Babe.” He lets out a sigh. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
“I hit you.” It hurts me to even say it. I vowed that I would never hurt a hair on anyone’s head. Not with the way I was treated growing up. Well, maybe my father would be the exception to that rule.
“You’re not the first and won’t be the last.”
“What?” I lift my head.
“There you are.” Rich’s lips turn up into a smile. “You’re talking to me. You can hit me a few more times if it keeps you talking.” I shake my head no. “I’m teasing, dollface.”
“Who hits you?” I ask. The man is a giant. I can’t picture anyone hitting him, not if they want to live.
“I do cage fighting sometimes.” I have no clue what that means. “Doesn't matter. I’m fine. How are you feeling?” I shrug. “You got a name?” I shrug again, not sure if I should give it out. “Not going to tell anyone, but I can stick with calling you dollface for now if you’re more comfortable with that. Until I gain more of your trust.”
“I don’t want them to find me.”
“Them? So more than one.” I nod. “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor? I can get a private one. We have connections.” His eyes soften at the edges, and I can see he really is concerned for my well-being.
“I’m okay.” This is the best I’ve been since I can remember. While this situation may be scary, I remind myself that I got away. For now. I’m not taking a second of it for granted, not knowing how long it will last.
“Okay, Teddy brought food. You think you could eat for me?”
“Eat for you?” I tilt my head, wondering why he worded it in such a way.
“If you eat it, it will make me feel better, that I’m at least taking care of you.”
“Oh.” I stare into his eyes. He’s too good to be true.
“You don’t have to.” He stands up, running his hand through his short hair. “But I really want you to.” Rich seems flustered. “Here, let me show you.” He walks over to the round table sitting in front of a window with thick curtains drawn closed.
It is then that I really take notice of the room I’m in. I'm uncertain if the term "room" accurately describes the space. It’s more like a loft or suite. One area even features a sofa and a couple of chairs near a fireplace with a TV hanging above it.
“Teddy is a talented cook.” Rich sets the tray down on the bed in front of me. My stomach growls when I see the wide variety of food on it. There is soup, grilled cheese, grapes, crackers, and a piece of chocolate cake. “I’m not the worst cook, but I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
I lick my lips, staring at the food. I so badly want to eat, but an old fear rides me hard. My father would often drug my food. That’s how he’d gotten me onto the boat. He hadn’t fed me for a few days, and then I got a bowl of soup. I remember taking a few bites, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up on the boat being told I was getting married.
“I know you’re hungry.”
“They used to drug my food,” I whisper, feeling a sense of shame. Rich goes completely still, like a statue at my admission.
“They fucking drugged you?” Each of his words is laced with a fire that instantly has me shifting backwards, hitting the headboard. “Dollface.” Rich puts his hand out with his palm up. "I'm not angry with you. Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you.”