Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 142783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
It was pain.
A plea.
Desperation.
It only made the sickness thrum harder.
I looked to Jarek.
“The girl.”
The stake came out without thought to repercussions.
Without rationale.
No sense.
Just revenge.
I wanted what never should have been his.
A gasp rocked from her, and she stumbled back farther.
Jarek’s eyes sharpened to blades, and there was no question he wanted to reach over the table and choke the life from me.
My fingers itched.
I hoped he tried.
I gave nothing. No smile. No sneer. Just the quiet hatred that emanated from within. The fact I intended to take everything from him.
I’d known one day I would. I just hadn’t anticipated the opportunity would present itself so soon.
He blinked then jutted his chin at the dealer for the exotic chip.
The one that signified he would hazard my proposition.
It wasn’t rare. A bid made for a beach home. A family heirloom. Something that couldn’t be replaced. Here, fortunes were won and lost.
“What are you doing? I am not for sale.” Aster’s voice was aghast. Horrified and filled with disgust.
“He’s bluffing, Aster.” Jarek tossed in the chip.
It was the first time I let myself fully look at her. To sit back and take her in like she was mine to take. Sickened terror ridged her gorgeous face because I was pretty sure she knew this wasn’t close to a bluff.
I couldn’t do anything but crack a grin. “It seems you are tonight.”
Then I laid down my cards.
A straight flush.
TWO
ASTER
“You bastard.” The accusation flew from my mouth.
Horror that sliced through the pressure-addled air. Through the bitterness that had poisoned the oxygen.
Toxic.
Lethal.
So malignant I thought I would suffocate.
How could he even suggest it? He had no idea what he was doing. How dangerous this was. What was riding on the line.
Logan Lawson merely cocked his head to the side. Vile arrogance lapped from him on waves, the man a stake impaled directly into my mangled heart.
Seeing him had nearly done me in. Dropped me to my knees. But I had to stand strong.
“You can’t do this, Logan.” My voice was anguished. “I am not an asset. Not a plaything to be bought or sold.”
Such a lie. I’d been a possession since the day I was born. Paraded by my father like merchandise.
Logan smirked back like he was enjoying my outrage. Feeding off my pain.
He wanted to hurt me, and it killed me that he did.
What did I expect? Something different than his hatred? It wasn’t as if I could wipe the memory of the last time I’d seen him seven years ago. It wasn’t like I could forget what had been written in his expression.
I’d crushed him.
Devastated him.
Almost as much as I’d devastated myself.
Now he watched me with this hollowed-out disdain that made my skin crawl.
Like death had come to smother him, but the only thing it’d managed to rob him of was his soul.
Because his body was alive. Bristling with strength. Tall. So tall. The man built of sinewy, bristling muscle. Fierce but trim. A viper who would strike.
Perfect beneath his designer suit. Every chiseled angle of his unforgettable face was ethereal, but there was no mistaking the demon lying underneath.
He wore his beard short and trimmed, his dark, dark hair short but long enough on top that it appeared carelessly mussed.
And his eyes—they were the deepest green set in a thousand, intricate layers. Swirled in blacks and golds and old forgotten dreams that he was supposed to have shared with me.
Now they appeared as stones that would forever haunt me in the night.
Malachite.
I ached just looking at him, like if I stared long enough, maybe I could reach through time and space to the man I’d once believed him to be.
Clearly, that man was long since gone.
In pure arrogance, he stood from his chair as if he thought he’d won, while my spineless husband sat fuming in visions of retaliation, his tongue locked in his ignorant mouth as he fisted and unfisted his hands.
No question, Jarek would make good on the visions. He had a legion of monsters at his beck and call.
And it didn’t matter if Logan stood there like he wished death upon me, I wanted to fly around the table, grab him, and tell him not to be a fool.
All while I had the urge to spit in his smug, obscenely handsome face.
I could take his anger, but I wasn’t sure how to take the callousness of what he’d become.
“Get your things…a coat would be good.” Logan said it so nonchalantly, as if I were just another possession, while he was presented with two sets of keys—his own and another man’s who had lost a Mercedes. A man who had laughed and clapped Logan on the back as if it had all been in good fun.
The entire act made me want to throw up. The avarice and gluttony.
“We wouldn’t want you to get cold, now, would we?” Logan’s head tipped to the side. His chosen words might have indicated he cared, but the arch of his brow was pure condescension.