Page 63 of The Billionaire's Bride
I turn on Ed just as he throws a punch. My head snaps back as pain explodes in my head. I snap my eyes open, breath heaving, pulse pounding at my temples. A dream; it was only a dream.
Sweat drips down my back.
I sit up, shove the covers off and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Reach for the half-full glass of water and down the rest of it. At least, I don’t have a headache anymore. Jeez, what was that dream? It seemed so real. Guess the incident from last night traumatized me in more ways than I realized. I need to put an end to this. But how? I glance toward the window, but it’s already dark outside. How long did I sleep?
I take another quick shower, then slip into the bathrobe. My clothes must be dry by now. Guess I’d better go get them from the dryer.
I walk into the kitchen and spot a covered plate on the dining table. I walk toward it, find a note:
Eat!
That’s all the note says. One word, written in a bossy-ass handwriting, which could belong to either of them. Of course, it’s meant for me… They wouldn’t dare talk to each other in such an over-the-top, demanding manner. Gah! I uncover the plate, take in the rice and curry on the plate. Whoa, how did they guess I like Indian food? More to the point, how did they manage to procure it here? Does one of them know how to cook? Or did they order it in? The spicy scent teases my nostrils and my stomach rumbles. I walk over to the microwave, heat up the food, then sit down at the dining table and inhale it. Yum. Washing the plate and cutlery, I stow them away, then head through the adjoining door into the laundry room. I pull my clothes from the dryer, glance at the dress, then grimace. It’s clean, but torn. Guess I am not going to be able to wear it again. I fold it and place it aside, then walk back through the kitchen.
It’s so quiet. I peer up the darkened corridor and see the outline of a closed door at the end, light peeking around the edges, giving it a foreboding air. I guess one of the guys is using it? I turn the other way, head toward a closed door that seems to promise solitude. I push it open, flip on the light beside the door, and gasp.
OMG, it’s a studio. An honest-to-god, beautiful studio, with wooden floors, and a mirror that runs the entire length of one wall. The lights in the ceiling emit golden rays that bathe the space. I walk toward my reflection, trail my fingers across the barre in front of the mirror. I glance around, find a table at the far end with a tablet on it. I swipe the surface, and it reveals a playlist… The tracks are all dance songs—dance songs by my favorite artists. Yep, they are all here. The tunes I love dancing to. Who programmed this? And why does Edward have a studio in this place?
I take in the wood on the floor, which is marked from use. Clearly, someone used this studio before…but the playlist… That was programmed for me. The door on the far side rattles. I walk toward it, and find it unlocked. I push it open, step out onto the landing. In the gathering darkness, the countryside stretches out. Lush green and quiet.
"Feeling better?"
I half-scream, turning in the direction of the voice.
21
Ava
The glow of a cigarette lights up the darkness, then a puff of smoke haloes his features.
"Edward?" I frown. "How many cigarettes do you smoke in a day?"
"A pack, maybe more?" He raises a shoulder and I gasp.
"A pack? Seriously, Ed?" I admonish, "These things will kill you."
"But what a sweet death it will be, hmm?" He takes another drag and the fragrant scent of burning tobacco fills the space. "Apparently, when I decided to fall from grace, I took the express." He smirks.
I toss my hair over my shoulder. "Honestly, I never know what to expect from you anymore."
"You and me both." His smile vanishes as he surveys the tip of his cigarette, "I am getting very good at surprising myself as well."
I walk over to him, take the cigarette from him and put it between my lips. I inhale, and instantly, my lungs burn. I cough, tears stream down my cheeks, and he laughs.
Smirking, he snatches the cigarette back and takes a healthy puff… Yeah, okay, so not that healthy. He takes another drag, this time blowing out a smoke circle.
"Why Father—I mean, Mr. Chase, I do believe you are showing off."
His eyebrows knit. "Maybe." His voice grows remote. Shit, what did I do now to piss him off?
"Sorry about the slip of the tongue… I guess, on some level, I still think of you as Father."
"Is it so difficult for you to perceive me as a normal man?" He scowls.
"Yes." I shake my head, "No. I don’t know. Perhaps there was always an element of the forbidden about you earlier that attracted me, you know."
"You mean you are no longer attracted to me now?" His frown deepens.
"I didn’t say that."
