Nicholas
When it comes to Sinclair's safety, he had no scruples in ensuring his goals were met. He would kill for her. Again and again. Without question.
Sylvia did not make it to the asylum. She was assassinated during the transport. Her body was discarded somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.
Another possible dark cloud on the horizon vanquished for good. One more to go.
A more urgent matter needing his attention had to be dealt with the soonest time possible. He was aware he could no longer put the situation off. The time was right.
His fiancee was spending the day with his mother, his sisters, and Lady Louise which gave him a semblance of relief.
Nicholas was reluctant to let her out of his sight yet he must. Still, it took Sinclair pushing him out of their bedroom before he relented. They needed a girl's day out, she told him sternly. He grud
SinclairShock coursed through her.She had been kidnapped, tortured, and sexually assaulted more than a month ago. She thought she had experienced the worst nightmare at that time but she was wrong. The panic coursing in her body right that moment was incomparable.Running from Nicholas was futile but what could she do? He left her no choice.Sobbing hysterically, she locked herself in the women's lavatory, oblivious to anything. She kept crying. Pouring all of her emotions out. It had lasted a while. She didn't care. Knowing she needed this or she would combust with anger.Her sobs turned to hiccups eventually. She was sprawled on the floor. The back of her head hit the tiled wall for support. Drained. Her energy depleted.Trying to think sensibly was a chore. But she had to. The growing life inside took precedence over her anger towards its father.Nicholas was only giving her a re
SinclairThe way to a man's heart was through his stomach. Or maybe a few inches lower.She tried to hide her smirk. Her plan was working. Cooking her favorite dish, now Nicholas's favorite, too, was part of it.She was craving pot roast tonight. And him. It has been way too long since they were intimate.While Nicholas was changing for dinner, she called the dowager. Affirming their agenda was to be executed two days hence. Mama happily agreed.Sinclair had faith that her sisters-in-law and Lady Louise were rallying behind her and finalizing everything.Viscount Redington was in for the biggest surprise of his life.There had been some sexual tension during the drive home but he still would not act on it. He was treating her like delicate china. Frustrating her to no end.She was determined to end their abstinence this evening.
Nicholas Two Days Later "Where the hell are we going, Huntley?" Remington asked impatiently. "Why couldn't I drive the Audi?" His foul mood also derived from the fact of being awakened at the crack of dawn by his butler, only to find out Sinclair was kidnapped by his mother and his sisters. Huntley was looking down at him with a shit-eating grin on his face. Knowing Redington, who was about to scramble out of the mammoth bed to go after his fiancee, the baron immediately handed him two sealed envelopes. One from his mama. The other one from Sinclair. His sweetheart explained she had to go with the Dowager Viscountess to meet the tenants at Redington's Place, the family estate. Which was odd. His frown continued to grow while reading the letter. As the current lord and landowner, he should be the one accompanying her instead o
NicholasTwo Months LaterBringing his Viscountess to the club was a first.The written rule of no ladies allowed inside the premises was about to be broken. But he knew his peers wouldn't mind. She was an official member of the prestigious club after all.Her hand on his warm grasp, he glanced down at her radiant face. Her enthusiasm was also contagious, soft brown eyes assessing, looking around her, ultimately nodding in approval. The Viscount smirked.Walking to the front steps, he was about to knock when Hennessey opened the heavy double doors for them with a flourish every self-respecting butler had been strictly trained to do upon receiving an important guest in his household. "My lord. Lady Redington." He bowed deeply. "A pleasure to have you here.""Thank you." She beamed. Her smile was a work of art.It gave the man paused. Then he cleared his throat. "This way, please." Gesturing to the long h
Sinclair "I am going to pretend I didn't hear that," her voice was soft yet there was an edge to it. His body tensed, surprised by her ambush. Slowly, he turned to gaze at his wife. Not expecting her behind him while he talked to their head of security. One hand on her hip, she was tapping her foot on the carpeted flooring. Her gaze threw daggers at him. If looks could maim... Rick, the head to her detail, coughed to hide his chuckle. Having witnessed this scene numerous times, he was not surprised anymore that his bad-ass employer was afraid of his petite wife. The only one who could make him quake in his boots. "Do." Viscount Redington uttered and dismissed him. She arched her brow. Amused at his defensive reaction, she reigned it in. Consternation filled his handsome features. She kept her expression bland though. It was always good to keep him on his toes. Or on his knees. "Sweetheart," he pushed closer to her until he could wrap her ample waist with one arm, while the other
Trigger WarningThirteen Years Ago "Daddy, please! Please, don't leave us. Please!" The tiny child was sobbing hysterically, clinging to his pants. The man moved with purpose, uncaring, dragging the little girl. No! She didn't let go. How she wished her hands were bigger so she could surround his limb with enough force to make him stop. Unconcerned. Irritation marring his features. It was no use. The small frame that was her body got drag along. He continued to walk towards the door. "Leave him be, brat. He doesn't want us anymore." No! That was not true. She was daddy's little girl. He loved her. He read her stories at night and he would always bring her chocolates. Her swollen eyes pleaded with him. "Please, daddy. Don't leave me." He doesn't even look at her. His face was graven
Sinclair This was the third trimester of the year, three more months, ninety more days, and she's done. No more late nights at the library. No more three jobs to keep her afloat. No more walking three miles a day when she missed the bus. Just three more months and five more majors standing in her way. And this day was the first in the countdown. Sinclair's head ducked, avoiding fellow unis converging on the spacious hallway. Everyone belonged in a group. Except her. She couldn't stand them. And they sure as hell couldn't stand the poor girl at the campus. Someone even pointed out she smelt funny. Funny? At least she smelled clean and not like an overdose potpourri. Yuck! The thought alone could trigger her allergies to strong smells. She favored fresh flowers though. And when she had enough money to buy a nice cott
Sinclair To say the professor was relentless was an understatement. They, the students, became slaves of the subject.And he was taking no prisoner. One only had two options. Passed or failed. He was a freaking slave driver. And to think Sinclair loved literature. All along she thought it was the easiest of amongst her major subjects but it was not. The research, the debate, and the dissection of each piece were mind-boggling. On top of that, she had to make a thesis with one old poem, and from there a short story with a minimum of seventy thousand words.Basically, a novel. Who in their right mind would do that? Him. Her professor. -Wait? What?- Where did that thought come from? Well, she didn't mean it like that. She meant in a purely professional way. This conversation with hers