The Count (Twisted Classics Book 3) by Monica Corwin

Author:Monica Corwin [Corwin, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Published: 2019-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Mercy

I’d made some pretty stupid choices in my life. I owned more regrets than I could keep track of. But none of it compared to the fear which spiked through me as I walked away from The Gala Hotel. Almost immediately, I wanted to go back, beg his forgiveness. But watching him read my foolhardy message and connect the pieces scared me. When I can’t think around fear, I run from it.

But this time, where did I go? Nowhere I hid would keep me safe from him if he wanted to find me. And in true Stockholm style, I wasn’t sure I wanted away. I walked, my heels echoing in the dark. My feet were starting to ache, and regret sat weighty on my shoulders.

I always keep my word.

My earlier protestations flashed in my head, and I only had one place I could go. I crossed a dimly lit street toward brighter city light. At the first gas station, I found I called a taxi and all too easily directed it to Will’s lair.

The doorman greeted me, but I thought I saw him grab his phone as the elevator whooshed shut between us. The ding of each floor punched me in the chest. Would he be there when I reached the top floor, or would I have to sit and wait for his return? Whatever the outcome, I needed out of this dress.

The elevator opened and I stepped out slowly looking carefully around. But he wasn’t here. The silence weighed against my skin, and I crossed the sitting room to my bedroom. I peeled the dress off and left it in a heap by the bed. Next, my shoes. Favorite or not, all the walking caused blisters to form above my heels. I prodded the skin but decided to leave it alone since I didn’t have any bandages and first aid wasn’t going to be at the top of Will’s to-do list when he returned.

Speak of the devil. His heavy footfall alerted me to his presence. I’d finished removing my slip and stood in the middle of my room in nothing but my black lace panties. His chest heaved like he’d just run ten miles. I waited for the yelling, shouting, cursing, anything, but he just stood there staring at me.

“What?” I broke the silence, it was fucking kill me waiting for him to do it.

His fists clenched near his thighs. “What? That’s all you have to say to me. Where the hell did you? What the hell happened back there, and where the fuck did ‘I keep my word’ go?”

I turned, and looked around the room. He was right. I’d run before I thought things through. Now I’d pay the consequences. “I’m sorry.” I said.

“What did you say?” Closer to me now.

I faced him. “I’m sorry. I have no excuse. I got spooked and ran. Once I slowed down I reconsidered. I’m saying sorry.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Is this some kind of mind game?”

What the hell did he want from me.

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