Eleanor's Point of View
I was livid. No, livid didn’t even begin to describe what I was.
The cottage shook with the force of my rage, my hands threw open cabinet doors, crystal glasses shattered at my feet, papers flew, and a ceramic bowl hit the wall with a c***k that mimicked the one in my chest. Jim’s cottage, one of his secluded properties tucked just beyond the city’s shore, now looked like a war zone. And I didn’t care. Let the damn place burn if it needed to.
The moment Devon had left the house, storming out like a man on fire, saying something about saving Jimmie, I had called Jim. “Now,” I’d said. “Meet me now.”
And he had.
Now I was pacing like a caged lioness. Screaming and hurling anything within reach. My blood felt like it was boiling under my skin, and every thought I h
