Total pages in book: 195
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
I nod, afraid to use my words for fear of what confessions might come tumbling out. But it isn’t something I have to think about. I do trust him.
“We’re going to figure this out,” he promises. “It’s just going to take some time.”
“Okay.” My voice is little more than a whisper.
I lean into him, my face resting against his chest. His scent surrounds me, and the beat of his heart settles me as I gradually come back down from my emotional roller coaster. He’s warm, and I can feel him everywhere as his palms stroke my arms, my hair, my back. I don’t know how long we sit there before he adjusts my body and wraps my legs around his waist, picking me up with little effort. He carries me to the sofa and sits down with me still enveloped by his body.
A comfortable silence lingers between us, and I’m close to falling asleep when I murmur something I probably shouldn’t.
“It doesn’t make sense that you can make me feel this way,” I tell him. “That’s how I know I’m not your Bianca. Because if I was, I would have never chosen him.”
Tension returns to his body, and his voice is gravelly when he responds. “You were mine before you were his.”
His admission hits me in an unexpected way, and it only twists me up even more inside. Part of me wants to ask for details, but the other part of me wants to protect myself because it will only hurt me to listen to him talk about her.
Madden slides his palms down my arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “If he hurt you, you can tell me.”
I look up at him, and something is different about him today. He’s being gentle with me, and in the depths of his eyes, I swear I can see remorse or possibly even guilt. Something is bothering him, and I don’t know what has changed, but it makes me anxious.
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
He considers the question for a minute before he answers. “I had lunch with Tori Campbell today.”
There’s an unwavering intensity in his gaze as he tells me this, and I realize he’s hoping for a reaction. He expects me to know who that is, but all I feel is an irrational sense of jealousy and possession stirring inside me.
“You went to lunch with a woman?” I lean back to get some distance, but he tightens his grip on me.
“Who is she?” I demand.
My question sparks a hint of amusement in him as he shakes his head. “Goddamn, woman. You are a jealous little beast.”
“It’s not funny.” I try to yank away again, hoping he can’t see how emotional I’m getting over something so stupid.
“Hey.” He grabs my chin and forces my gaze back to his. “We aren’t playing those games anymore.”
When I look at him, his meaning is clear enough. This is as close as he can get to saying he’s mine without actually saying it. I’d like to believe that, but those sentiments belong to someone else. And I know if she were to walk through that door right now, or even a month from now, there would be no choice for him. I will always lose. But acknowledging that out loud hurts too much, so I stuff it down instead.
“Tell me who Tori is,” I say.
“You knew her,” he explains. “She dated Adam before you.”
I think he’s hoping this information will have some sort of significance to me, but it doesn’t, so I stay quiet.
“We talked about their relationship today.” An edge of darkness bleeds through his voice. “She told me some things about Adam, and you came up too.”
My stomach flips as I consider the implications of that. “Does she know I’m here?”
“She doesn’t know.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t tell her, and I won’t.”
Irritation surges through me at his response. “You won’t? So that means you plan on seeing her again?”
He brushes his thumb along my jaw and down to the pulse beating in my throat. “Yes. I’m going to meet my niece.”
“Niece?” I echo in confusion.
He watches me, waiting for something to register, but it never does.
“Adam’s daughter,” he says.
I try to process that, wondering why the articles I read never mentioned anything about her.
“I didn’t realize he had a daughter,” I murmur. “I’m sorry.”
Another wave of regret rolls through his eyes. “So am I.”
He drags his fingers through my hair, and it feels so good, I just want to close my eyes and live here. But I can sense this conversation isn’t close to being over.
“Lucian has a friend,” he says carefully. “She’s a psychologist. She might be able to help bring back your memories in a way that’s safe.”
I stiffen in his arms and shake my head. “No.”