Page 8 of Hollywood King
When he didn’t move, I added. “For me?”
His lips twitched in a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, Ms. Earnshaw. Of course, Ms. Earnshaw.”
I ignored the tone I’d usually scold him for because he came to bed and held me, not as tightly as I wished, but it felt good to have his arms around me. I closed my eyes and drifted.
I woke in the darkness alone. Alarms blared in my mind, and I jerked up, clutching the gray linens to my chest. “Heath.”
No answer.
I braced my arm behind me, and my fingers met a piece of crumpled paper. My stomach crashed to my toes. A piece of paper in place of man is never a good thing.
I scanned the sheet and clutched it tight in my fist. Already, the words were seared into my brain.
My Dearest Cathy,
I can’t be what you need right now. Your body can’t withstand the storm of me. You’ve been too sick.
When I return, be prepared.
You will be mine.
H.C.
He signed under his initials his name: Heath Cliff.
Did he just think I’d sit around and wait for him to deem me worthy? Tears escaped the corners of my eyes, and I brushed them away.
Only one way to find out.
I climbed out of bed, put my clothes on, and called my car. I wasn’t staying without him, and who knew if I’d wait.
A day? Sure. A week? Yes.
Longer...I didn’t know. I’d gotten my first taste of a man’s touch, and I wanted more.
The problem lay in the fact I wanted his most.
Read on for the book Hollywood King set ten years after the prologue.
