Total pages in book: 331
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
“Miss Everett Sinclair.” The real estate agent speaks, coming to stand next to me while watching my future wife enter her home through the front door. “I sold her that house.” He turns and smiles proudly at me. “She’s lovely.” His face falls. “No kids that I know of. She was single when she purchased that house. I showed her numerous locations and lots. She looked for three months until she found what she wanted.”
I would normally tell someone rambling to shut the fuck up, but he’s giving me information that I won’t be able to find anywhere else. “Single, huh?”
“Yes. But she did have a daddy.”
I turn to face him. “What do you mean by daddy?”
“You know…” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“No. I don’t.” I cross my tatted arms over my chest. What an odd thing to tell me, but again, it’s something I’ll need to know. I’m also not surprised after our first encounter. She’s moved up from a man trying to rape her on a yacht to having some bastard buy her a six-thousand-square-foot house.
“She, uh”—he lowers his voice—“I showed her the house. She called him and told him she wanted it. And he purchased it for her. Wire transfer.”
“Who was he?” This is interesting.
He shrugs. “No name was ever given. Everything was done in hers.” He winks at me like some secret guy code for “she’s a whore who sucks dick good enough for some pathetic married man to buy her a house where he can fuck her whenever he wants.”
Or maybe that’s just my jealousy talking and thinking the worst. Six years is a long time. A lot can happen in that amount of time. But it doesn’t matter if she’s married. He’s dead. If she has a boyfriend, he’s dead. If she has a sugar daddy, he’s dead.
My angel will rely on me for everything.
“I love it,” Amber shouts, entering the living room once more, interrupting our conversation.
“We’ll take it,” I tell the man.
He smiles, looking at Amber as she jumps up and down with her tits bouncing to the point they’re about to fall out of her top.
They begin to talk about interior decorators in the area, and I place my attention back on the house across the street.
My girl exits the front door, locking it behind her. She’s changed into a short-sleeved crop top, yoga pants, and tennis shoes. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and her shades still cover half her face, but her red lips are gone.
She pauses with her hand on the door handle of her car, but doesn’t look up. She can feel me.
I smile to myself.
Hello, angel. It’s been too long.
Yanking her door open, she falls inside, starts it up, and backs out before driving away.
SIX
EVERETT
I’ve been kept hidden all my life. I was always supposed to be a secret—a no one. And I’ve always been okay with that. The Lords have shown me that you’re the only person you can count on. Hell, let’s face it, that can go for anyone, Lords world or not.
But I’ve been seen. The one person I’ve wanted to avoid has come back into my life, and all I can do is hope he doesn’t want to reminisce.
Last week, Kashton Landon Pierce walked into my life, just like he did six years ago, and he had me just as flustered as he did back then. But this time, I couldn’t show it, because he wasn’t alone.
It’s been one week since Kashton and Haidyn were at the cathedral, and one of them is following me.
He thinks I haven’t noticed him, but I see everything. I’m always watching my surroundings. A woman can never be too careful. We’re targets. No matter whether it’s someone we know or not.
I can feel him.
That same heat rushes over my skin, as if I’ve been lit on fire. Those butterflies flutter in my stomach so violently I think I’m going to get sick, and it has nothing to do with why I’m here tonight.
It hasn’t stopped me from living my life though. I have a job to do, and I’m not going to let a man dictate that. Men already have too much power over women.
“May I buy you a drink?”
I look up from the glass of bourbon sitting on the bar to see a man standing next to me under the neon lights. “Of course.” I give him a shy smile.
Who the fuck turns down free drinks? Definitely not a woman sitting alone at a bar.
He pulls out the barstool next to me and gestures to the bartender. “I’ll have a scotch, and the lady will have another.”
I readjust my position at the way he calls me lady. I know the man was being polite, but it’s something I’ll never be in our world.
I’ll never belong to a Lord. No one would want me. Not long-term anyway. A one-night stand? Absolutely, but that’s not a compliment or reassuring. A man will fuck anything. Literally.