Page 25 of Endgame
Nothing will stop him, I’m aware of that.
The way he looked at me, it was as if he wanted to punish me.
For what?
Shoplifting isn’t it. I refuse to accept this excuse. This lie.
Then why?
Doesn’t matter.
He’s coming.
I open my eyes, bracing for impact.
The door opens.
Everett’s dark presence fills the doorway.
My heart thumps erratically, as I wait for his next move. Watching him closely.
A white dress shirt hugs his lean, accentuated muscles. Midnight blue pants sit on a tapered waist. His feet are bare, elegant, and manly.
The delicious scent of his cologne permeates the room, tickling my nostrils.
He hasn’t come here empty-handed. In one hand, he holds a leather tote. He has his phone in the other.
“Aurora.” My name on his lips is a curse. An insult.
I gravitate toward him anyway. My thighs press together as I’m faced with my future husband.
The most beautiful man alive.
And yet, danger radiates off him. I can’t forget that. Even if he’s brought me…what is this? Gifts? I don’t need them. I need him to be nice, or I need him to let me go. That’s all I’ll ever need.
“Stand up,” he orders.
A baser, unfamiliar instinct pushes me off the bed. I scramble to my feet, chin dipped.
My mind rebels against it. This quick obedience, this isn’t like me.
Doing my homework, cleaning my room,“stop stealing like a petty thief”—every single one of my parents’ demands was met with resistance.
Until I was thrown into the basement, I wouldn’t heed their demands. I wouldn’t make their life easy, though I knew I’d pay for it.
This man is practically a stranger. A terrible one, at that.
Yet here I am.
Doing as I’m told.
A lamb to the slaughter.
“Your hair is a mess.”
Thrown by his comment, I cut my gaze up to find his raking over my body.
Heat floods me under his inspection, even as his expression is nothing but distaste. “Your clothes are crumpled,” he adds.
