Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
On the schedule for today, there’s a note that he has a meeting with Dr. Blom in the morning. And I recognize that name as one that appeared the week before too. Why would Thorsen need to see a doctor every week? It seems strange, but there aren’t any explanations typed in the boxes. Every week, it’s the same time. Nothing changes.
But it’s his agenda for this evening that has me really curious. It has the name Eugen Onegin typed out with Oslo Opera House below it. What would Thorsen be doing at the opera? And the more haunting question is… who is he with?
Absently, I click through the rest of the days in the coming weeks, looking for clues. But there aren’t any names, other than those of the public figures he meets with on a regular basis. Still, I keep clicking, all the way into next month until I see one square that stops me cold.
Return Ella.
That’s all it says. As if I’m just another item on his to-do list. But should I have expected anything else? This was the deal we made, right? So why does my throat feel so raw when I swallow? And why does it hurt worse than I ever could have imagined thinking of going back home to the only life I’ve ever known. Narcissa will probably turn me away before I can even step foot in the door.
Hopelessness threatens to swallow me whole as I click to the next week in the schedule, not really paying attention to the blank spaces until I see one dated a week after our time comes to an end.
Aokigahara Forest?
Another oddity. Is he planning to go on holiday?
“What are you doing?”
My head snaps up at the sound of Thorsen’s voice, and the air in my lungs seems to evaporate as I meet his stormy gaze. He’s dressed in a smart black suit with a bowtie, and his hair is styled in that artfully messy way that makes him look like he just fucked someone’s brains out. I just don’t want to believe that’s true.
“How many of us are there?” I ask.
“What?” He stalks into the room, towering over the desk as he removes the leather case from my grasp and slams it shut.
“How many other women do you do this with?” My voice wavers, betraying the emotions I still can’t quite admit. “Do you have other women stashed at different houses? You go see them, and then you come back here to me?”
He stares at me, his expression blank as if he’s trying to determine something for himself. “What does it matter?”
“It matters.” I yank the robe he gave me around my body as I stand, my sudden insecurity threatening to expose me. I’m on the verge of tears, and I don’t even know why. But I gave myself to him. I gave him my body and maybe a piece of my soul too. And now he’s standing here, emotionally bankrupt, asking me why it matters.
“Are you having sex with other women?” I demand.
“What would you say if I told you I was?” His face is a mixture of curiosity and irritation, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to provoke me, or if he just thinks I’m insane.
“I’d say I was leaving.” I swallow.
Shadows dance beneath his eyes as he circles the desk, and I stumble back in the opposite direction. I don’t even know why I do it, but it’s just instinct that makes me run. Out of the office, down the stairs, and toward the kitchen. I can hear his footsteps behind me, quick and hard. He doesn’t have to run to keep up. His legs are long, and the predator inside him is confident. He will catch me, and he will devour me.
I make it as far as the terrace doors before he grabs me from behind and hoists me into his arms. He stalks down the hall to my room and tosses me onto the bed inside. I crawl toward the opposite edge, and he grabs me by the ankle, yanking me back. He pins me against the mattress with the weight of his body, and reaches beneath me, yanking the fabric of my robe apart. I squirm against him when he shoves his fingers between my thighs and grinds his hard cock against my ass.
“You’re not leaving me, Ella,” he growls into my ear. “We had a deal.”
“I’m not sharing you with someone else.” The words tumble from my lips before I can filter them, and Thorsen freezes behind me.
His touch is surprisingly gentle when he brushes the hair back away from my face. When he turns me in his arms to face him and presses his hips between my legs, I can’t escape the intensity in his eyes.
“You don’t have to,” he murmurs so quietly, I’m not even sure I heard him correctly.