Page 45 of Endgame
Makes sense.Shecould be anyone.
“Everett mentioned ashe.”
Elena’s lips press into a fine line. Neither woman speaks.
“Was there another woman he was about to marry?” I keep going, not letting their silence deter me. “Did he kill her?”
I wait for them to talk to me. I even let them wash me, hoping they’d reward me for my good behavior with a whispered secret.
While Elena holds me down, Rylee runs the washcloth over my arms. My breasts. My stomach. The movements are surgical.
They stick to the chores assigned to them.
I’m nothing but an item to check off their list.
It drives me crazy. My hackles rise.
Taking a swing at them and running out of this bathroom is impossible, since their boss is probably close by. What’s left for me to do is demand answers.
“Who. Is. She?” Satisfaction warms me from the inside as soon as my nails sink into Rylee’s forearm.
Back home, I never hurt my family’s staff. If I had, I’d probably get locked in the basement for weeks, maybe months.
Here, it doesn’t matter what I do.
My freedom’s already gone.
He’ll hurt me without ever telling me why.
Might as well fight to get my answers.
“I’m your boss’s fiancée.” Naked and not so vulnerable anymore, I latch onto the other woman’s forearm. I hold them right where they are and break skin. “Tell me.”
A dark, ominous presence enters the room.
Everett’s behind me. I don’t see him, but I feel him.
The air is thick with his authority, with the unrelenting threat that rolls off my future husband in waves.
I bury my nails deeper into the shrieking women’s arms.
“No,” I say, my stupid chin quivering. I bite my tongue before I go on. “No. Go away. I don’t want you here. I don’t have to see you until the wedding.”
“I’m not going anywhere, princess.” His voice coils around my lungs, suffocating me. “And I suggest you release them. Right now. Don’t let me repeat myself.”
8
AURORA
Heat prickled at the back of my neck. The unnerving sensation made my heart pound faster, louder.
Someone was staring at me while I was waiting for my drink. My whiskey.
At the Royalty’s mansion, age and rules never mattered. I could drink because my parents said so, but only one glass, so I wouldn’t embarrass them. Of course.
The main gathering hall was gorgeous, but the aesthetics had never been my problem. High ceilings, soft light, heavy wood, and leather furniture arranged in an effortlessly elegant way.
Stunning.
