Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
But when would he have written this?
And how did he know I like chai? That I've never been to London? That I love my sister more than anything?
That I needed money desperately?
Why did he come into Devil's Point that night?
He knew… he already knew what he was doing.
There's only one explanation that makes sense.
But he would have told me by now. He would have told me he read Original Sin. That he saw my post about the doctor and—
Fuck.
Why would he offer me half a million dollars?
Unless he knew.
He read my site.
He found me there.
He came in looking for me.
Not because I was a virgin in search of a benefactor.
Because it was me.
He knew and he—
All this time.
And he didn't tell me.
How could he not tell me?
Chapter Fifty-Six
Ian
There's noise in the apartment. Not a quiet drama. Or prestige TV show. Or the thrashing guitar music Eve adores.
Her footsteps.
Loud and harried.
They stop as the door swings shut.
Then they start again.
She's in the bedroom. And she's rushing.
"Eve?" I move through the main room.
My heart rises in my throat as I turn the corner.
She's in the bedroom, in jeans and a tank top, pushing clothes into her bright pink suitcase. She catches the shadow moving over the room. Turns to me.
Her eyes meet mine for a split second. The same curiosity, but entirely different. How could you?
She—
Fuck.
"Where are you going?" I move into the room. Stand in front of the door. It's not fair to block her exit, but I don't give a fuck.
"Anywhere."
"Don't."
She shakes her head, sending stray locks over her eyes.
"You don't know the city, Eve. It's not safe."
"You lost the right to offer paternalistic advice." She shoves a black sandal in her suitcase. Looks around the room. Scanning it for what's left. She doesn't find anything on the floor. Turns to the door instead. "Could you please move?"
"No."
"Do I need to ask less nicely?"
"No."
She moves to the door. Stands in front of me, all fire and anger and defiance.
"You can go. But let me book you a hotel. Or call someone."
"I'm a grown-up."
"Please."
Her eyes fix on mine. "You already know why I'm leaving?"
"Does it matter?"
She takes a half-step toward me. Challenging me to push her back or pull her closer. One of the two. "That's not an answer."
"Yes, I know."
"Are you going to try to stop me?"
"If I can. If I can't, at least let me arrange for your transport. Please."
"Was it this whole time?" She holds her position. "Have you been reading everything I've written this entire time?"
"No."
"No? Only when you needed to laugh to yourself ah, how stupid is this little girl, she'll never realize I hold all the fucking cards?"
"No." I reach for her arm.
She slips sideways. Moves past me. Through the hallway. To the bathroom. Hurries through collecting her makeup. "Then when?"
"It's how I found you, yes."
"Didn't think to mention that?"
"What would I have said?"
"That's not the point."
"I couldn't let someone else…"
She shakes her head. "Oh no, couldn't let someone else touch me. God forbid."
"Eve—"
"That is what it was about."
"Yes. It still makes me sick. Thinking of someone else touching you, kissing you, fucking you. Some other man making you come, holding you tight, waking up next to you."
Her cheeks flame red. Not adorable blush. All fury.
She scoops makeup into her patent leather case. Her gestures are messy. She's too angry to move.
"You should have told me." Her breath is heavy. "You found me through Original Sin, fine. It's a public site. You didn't know me. You didn't owe me anything. But Ian, you… you touched me. You fucked me. You came inside me. How could you not tell me?"
What the fuck can I say? I've spent the last four years hating Laura for holding her tongue. I know I'm sorry is insufficient. But I don't have anything better. "I'm sorry."
"Why?" She shakes her head. Holds her bag to her chest. "You know what, it doesn't matter. I don't care that you're sorry. I don't care if you had good intentions. You should have told me before you fucked me."
"Eve—"
"No. You can't arrange my transport. You can't book me a hotel room. You can't call me a car."
"Please."
"No. I want you to worry. I want you to stay up all night wondering if I'm fucking someone else."
My stomach turns.
"You don't get to sleep safe and sound. Not when I have to spend the entire night wondering what the fuck you were pulling with me."
"I wasn't pulling anything."
"Bullshit." She stares at me. Seething. Shaking with anger. "Move."
I can't let her go. Not like this. "Our arrangement isn't over."
She scoffs.
"You have to be where I say."
"Fuck you."
"I won't ask you to stay here."
"Seriously, Ian. Fuck you."
It's pushing her further away. Maybe forever. But I have to take that risk. I'm not letting her run around the city alone and angry. I've been there. It's not a pretty place.