Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 18478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
My stomach flips, and I take a step back. As he looks back at his work, I catch a glimpse of what might be a smile on his lips.
Slowly, I turn and move into the kitchen, feeling small beneath the enormity of the Bleakson mansion—of Amon himself.
I switch into auto-pilot mode as I cook. He wanted an omelet, so I make one for him and one for me. But when I go back to the living room to bring it to him, I find it empty.
I set it on the coffee table where he’ll find it, and on my way back up the stairs, I hear his voice from outside. As usual, he’s talking business. Something about shorting a stock that will make them millions.
Maybe it’s just work distracting him, I think as I sit cross-legged on my bed and fork a slice of my omelet. But just like the bath, it does nothing to distract me from the urges steadily rising within.
My inner thighs are tickling as I think back to his touch.
Maybe I should go back downstairs and smash his plate or scatter the chess board. Then he would have to punish me. Give me his attention.
It’s cold in the house today, and I don’t even have socks on, yet my body is on fire. I can barely finish my meal before I’m back in bed, twisting and turning, yearning for something from him. Even if it’s only his presence.
A hunger lives inside me now. Or maybe it’s always been there like Momma said, and it took Amon to truly awaken it.
It would be so easy to sneak down to the closet and punish myself. Ride the saddle until I can’t take it anymore.
But would it really be the same without him? Without his discipline and control?
I hear his voice again outside. He’s laughing, talking about how no one can beat him.
I try to control myself, but something snaps inside. I grab my plate and am just about to rush downstairs and demand his attention when my cell phone rings.
It’s the first call I’ve received since I left the convent, and it’s Momma.
No. She is the last person I want to talk to right now. But I know if I don’t answer, she’s just going to keep calling and calling. And God forbid I let it go to voicemail.
So I answer.
“Hey, Momma, this isn’t really a great time—”
“Your father and I just landed and are about to get in the car,” she replies, cutting me off. “Did you get your letter from the convent?”
Instantly, goosebumps break out across my arms.
“Letter? I don’t think so…”
“Okay, well you need to be back there on Monday,” she says. “So make sure you’ve been keeping up with your prayers…”
I start to zone out. Back on Monday? That’s in three days. What is she talking about?
“Momma,” I say slowly. “I left the convent.”
“Yes, yes you did.” I can hear the disapproval in her voice. “But we both know that was just temporary. You can’t push God from your life, sweetie. Do you want to end up like those floozies shaming themselves on the Internet?”
For some reason, her words feel like they have an extra bite to them. She may have overreacted when she found my thong, but I managed to shrug it off. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Does God really care about what underwear I choose to wear?
But now…I’m hiding something big from Momma. She and John would surely lose it if they found out.
“No, of course not, Momma,” I reply. My stomach sinks so low I feel like I’m melting into the floor.
“Good girl,” she replies. I hear John’s voice in the background. “Oh, I’ve got another call. See you when we get home!”
Before I can even reply, she hangs up.
It’s all I can do to not throw the phone against the wall.
My breath comes in short, labored gasps as I take the stairs to the kitchen. Amon has left his plate for me, and I quickly wash them both. It’s actually a welcome distraction from the truth that now sits in my mind like a poison.
Momma’s coming home. John is coming home. The day of reckoning is coming, and I can’t hide forever.
8
AMON
I just can’t stop winning.
I went into work early to go over some research I’d assigned to my team. It told me what I already knew, which led to a few more trades, which, by noon, led to another eighty million.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. A text from Dad:
Coming home early. See you later.
“Ugh,” I groan, not bothering to reply. Why are they coming back now? They’re supposed to be in Florida for another week—a week I had planned on using to ruin my little nun. Show her who she belongs to now.
Joan roused the primal man inside of me. And beyond that, she’s starting to realize the truth of who she really is. All I need her to do now is accept it.