Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Except for the lone time he bent me over the counter and fucked me into oblivion. Then he said everything.
Bend over.
Show me your pussy.
Let me inside.
You’re such a good girl.
You take my cock so well.
So wet.
Fuck. I miss this cunt.
Take my cock.
Take my cum.
Come for me. Only me.
Fuck…
I miss…
His words faded into deep groans as he came, before pulling away, leaving me as alone as when we started—except with cum dripping down my thighs and a bittersweet pleasure throbbing through my veins.
The memory sent shivers washing down my spine. Yet still…I stood alone.
Each night, I racked my brain, wondering what the hell had changed, wondering what had happened to the man who called me a queen as I rode his cock, wondering where he was.
But I was done wondering.
Lucian Daire was my fiancé—my soon-to-be-husband, and I had a right to know what the fuck was going on. I had the right to say, enough was enough.
I gripped my phone, thinking of who to call first, but hating the idea of sounding like a crazy wife stalking her husband.
Pinching my eyes shut, I shook my head, hating the way my mind conjured flashes of women in media portrayed as insane and out of control as they stalked their husbands, yelling through the phone, making demands. I hated the stereotype, and I hated that it haunted me now.
Be who you are, nena. Don’t worry about what others think. Their opinion is their own, and it’s of no concern to you, my mother’s voice reminded me, gently. Quickly followed by the fiercer affirmations she’d said when I’d gotten older. On those rare occasions, she’d lean in and whisper words that always made my eyes bulge as I giggled. Fuck them, nena.
While I wouldn’t go with the final encouragement, I leaned on the first and made my calls—with some subtlety.
I called Grace under the guise of checking on Felix and asked her opinion on whether to use calla lilies or peonies for the wedding. She didn’t mention Lucian, which I took as proof he wasn’t there.
After her, I called Shiloh at the office. She’d mentioned heading back after our dinner, not even an hour ago. I told her I’d called Lucian’s office—which I had—and he hadn’t answered, but I had a quick question about tomorrow’s interview. She’d stumbled over a response before saying that Lucian had sent out an email, cc’ing her, letting everyone know he’d rescheduled.
The words hit like a sucker punch, knocking the air from my lungs. Somehow, I managed a laugh and blamed my forgetful memory. But when I asked her to track him down and tell him to answer his phone, it was harder to recover when she let me know he wasn’t there.
I’d feigned a call from my dad and hung up before she heard the devastating embarrassment through the line.
I scrolled through my contacts, itching to hurl my phone across the apartment and hide out in my old room, when I came across one last name I thought could help.
Rose Berkshire.
If I thought the embarrassment with Shiloh was bad, it would be nothing compared to calling Rose. Already, heat crawled up my neck into my cheeks. Again, I considered hiding away and waiting him out, but I just…couldn’t. Before I lost my nerve, I tapped her name.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
I should forget it and ha—
“Hello?” Rose answered.
“H-hey, Rose.” I winced, hating my nerves. “This is Aspen. Lucian’s fiancée.”
“Hey, Aspen. How are you?”
“Good. Good.” Another wince. More heat flamed across my cheeks. A deep breath. “Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you happened to be at work, and if you are, if you knew if Lucian was there. I know phones aren’t allowed, and I probably just missed him saying he was going, but I wanted to check in case it was my ridiculously scattered memory.”
Ramble much?
I bit back a shameful groan. If I stood near a wall, I’d hammer my head against it in hopes it might knock some sense into me.
Rose, being the most wonderful woman ever, didn’t call me out. In fact, she laughed. “I get it. My memory is the worst. If I don’t write it down, then it doesn’t exist.”
“Same,” I lied, laughing with her. I had a great memory, and at no point had Lucian told me he’d be at the club. He hadn’t told me anything about anything.
“But, yeah. I saw him just a bit ago talking to Corbin.”
A knot twisted around my heart. I’d been so focused on figuring out where the hell Lucian was that I hadn’t considered how much it would hurt that he went to The Berkshire without me. I hadn’t considered the possibilities of what it meant.
“Good. Thank you,” I muttered. Shoving back the hollow ache carving through my chest, I quickly thought of what to do next. I could wait for him to come home—probably for him to ignore me again. Or maybe I could go there. Maybe it would ease some of the pressure on my lungs. Maybe it would allow us to reconnect, and he could explain what caused the drastic change from last week. “Um, is there any way that I might be able to join him? I know I’m not a member or anything…”