Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I murmur.
I inhale a few deep breaths. Should I get a car and head home? I could make it in a few hours. The thought is unappealing because that’s exactly what Lance will assume I’ll do. He’ll be right behind me.
A thought strikes me, and I don’t know if it’s a good idea, but I find myself tapping on a contact that I haven’t used in years. The phone rings only twice before a man answers, his voice curious but welcoming. “Lara?”
“Hey, Reid,” I say, hating myself because my voice quavers.
He’s on immediate alert. “Are you okay?”
“No. Actually, I’m not. I need to see you.”
He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t try to pry more info. “I’m staying at the Ritz-Carlton and I’m walking out of the party now. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “Thanks.”
I disconnect the call and the taxi driver’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “Where to?”
“The Ritz,” I murmur. “And thank you for being so accommodating.”
“No worries, love. We’ll be there in a tick.”
I’m not sure exactly why I’m going to Reid, but I suspect it has everything to do with the fact that I trust him implicitly. While our friendship has dulled a little over the last few years—especially with his career taking off and me dating and then getting engaged to Lance—I know he will always have my back.
CHAPTER 3
Reid
I spot her before she sees me.
Lara’s standing near the lounge in the Ritz-Carlton lobby, half tucked into the shadows between a column and a potted plant like she doesn’t want to be noticed. A small suitcase sits at her side, her hand resting on the handle with a white-knuckled grip. Her eyes sweep the space in slow, anxious movements.
She looks like someone on the run and knowing she was with my brother this evening, I can only conclude that he’s the one chasing her. It makes me queasy as I move her way.
My eyes rake over her and then it’s like a punch to the gut when I see the red mark blooming across her left cheek.
Fresh. Obvious.
My eyes scan her entire body and there… on her arm… the faint outline of finger marks on her pale skin.
My chest tightens with something violent.
“Lara,” I say softly.
She jerks when she hears her name, then exhales when she sees me. A shaky kind of relief washes over her features. She moves toward me quickly, and I reach her in three long strides.
Up close, it’s worse.
The red across her cheek is angry and raised. The skin near her eye is starting to swell.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, voice low but sharp.
Her eyes shine with emotion. “Please don’t—don’t make a scene here.”
“I’m not,” I say tightly. “But if you tell me Lance did that, I swear to God, I’m going to kill him.”
“Then I won’t tell you he did it,” she snaps angrily, then her voice immediately fills with contrition, cracking with emotion. “I’m sorry… I just need a place to breathe, okay? I’m not asking for anything else. I don’t need you to fix it. I just… I didn’t know who else to call.”
I take a breath. I know Lance did this and every instinct in me says to go over to his hotel right now and handle things. I want to kill him. No question. But this moment isn’t about me—it’s about her, so I table my plans for murder.
Besides, right now, she looks like she might shatter and that must take priority.
“I’ve got a two-bedroom suite upstairs,” I say. “Come up. You can stay as long as you need. No pressure. Just talk to me.”
She hesitates, then nods.
I take her suitcase, turn for the elevator, and she follows me. I don’t miss the way her eyes scan the lobby, cutting back more than once to the door.
It prompts me to ask, “Does he know you came here?” She shakes her head and that right there confirms what I knew in my heart… Lance did this to her. “Where is he now?”
“He probably thinks I got a rental car and I’m headed back to Torquay, but I don’t know. Maybe he’ll guess I came to you.”
“You’re safe here,” I reassure her. “He doesn’t know where I’m staying.”
She only nods again, quiet as a mouse as we step into the elevator.
The suite is still, perched on one of the upper floors with wide windows overlooking the city skyline. Leaving her suitcase by the door of one of the bedrooms, I lead her into the living room and gesture toward the couch. “I’ll get you some water.”
She sinks down slowly, her shoulders hunched. Lara’s hands are clasped tight on her lap and she looks so brittle, I fear she’d shatter into a thousand pieces in a light wind.
I come back with a cold bottle, and she takes it with a whispered “Thanks,” holding it in both hands but not opening it. She contemplates the bottle for a moment, then touches the cold plastic to the red imprint on her cheek.