Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
I roll onto my back, careful not to wake her. I glance out the window. The snow has stopped but it will be a blisteringly cold day. I turn to watch her sleep. The warmth of her so close feels good, feels right. I listen to her quiet breathing, feel her heart beat against my chest. I hug her a little closer and look down at her blond head, her hair curly and wild like I like it.
My phone is on the nightstand, and when it buzzes with a message, I reach over to pick it and see my flight’s been canceled. Good. Because I’m not ready to walk away from Ophelia Hart just yet.
Smiling, I get up, careful not to wake her. I pick up my clothes and walk into the guest bathroom to shower and dress then go downstairs and make coffee. I text Hamish, telling him to take the day off as the coffee brews.
By the time I hear the shower go on upstairs, I’ve already drunk one cup. I pour a cup for her, a warmth in my chest, a hope I don’t recall feeling before. I can have any woman I want. I do. They’re usually socialites or models I forget about within hours of leaving their beds. But what happened last night? Ophelia upstairs in my bed. Spending the night asleep beside her. I’ve never done that with any woman before. Never wanted to.
I open the refrigerator to take out the cream, remembering how she used to like hers from when she first started drinking it, with lots of cream and lots of sugar. I pour myself a second mug. Black for me. I carry both upstairs.
Ophelia is in the shower.
I set the mugs down, intending on surprising her in the bathroom when an unfamiliar ringtone sends the first wave of something like dread through me. Something that pierces through that elation of moments ago. And suddenly, I have the feeling things are about to take a turn.
Ophelia’s coat is draped over the chair. She must have her cell phone in her pocket, and whoever is calling tries again.
The shower switches off as I reach into her pocket to grab out her phone but it’s not a phone my fingers wrap around. It’s something else. Something small and hard and…
Fuck. Me.
The bathroom door opens, a cloud of steam floating into the bedroom.
“Silas?” She smiles.
I look from her down to the palm of my hand not believing what I’m seeing, my brain not quite adding it up.
“Silas, what are you doing?” she asks, suddenly alarmed.
I can’t fucking believe what I’m looking at.
“I can explain.”
Ophelia’s voice sounds like it’s rooms away. I shift my gaze from the thing in my hand to her and back. Her eyes grow wide as she meets mine, and my name dies on her lips.
I blink to force my eyes to see it. To see the rock in my hand, then the woman who has her hand over her mouth.
“I can explain,” she starts again.
I shake my head, the engagement ring burning a hole in my palm.
“Silas, I never said—”
“You’re fucking engaged to him?”
Her eyes fill up, and when I stalk toward her, she takes several steps backward. “It’s not how it looks. I didn’t… ”
I lay my hand flat against her chest and shove her against the wall hard. “You’re fucking engaged to that bastard, and you let me believe… You fucking let me do…”
“Silas! No… It’s not…”
All I see is red. All I see is a liar.
“You fucking whore. You fucking goddamned whore. You let me think… You fucking asked me to stay!”
Tears stream from her eyes. She looks shocked, deeply wounded. And I don’t care.
“No, it’s not like that. It’s not, Silas. I swear!”
“Is that what you were doing last night? Out prowling for a man? For a fuck? Is that it?”
She shakes her head and tries to weave her fingers with mine.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me!” I step backward, away from her.
“Silas, please, let me explain!”
“You’re a fucking liar and a whore, Ophelia. You’re no better than them. And I’m sorry I laid eyes on you last night.”
“No. No—”
“I never want to see you again,” I say, crossing the room and hurling the ring at the far wall. “Do you hear me? Never!”
I walk out of the room, slam the door behind me. I gather my coat and wallet and walk out of that house. And I don’t look back.
13
SILAS
Present Day
Nigella and I are in a meeting with business associates in the dining room of The Sinistral when a commotion at the restaurant’s entrance interrupts us. Every head in the room turns to see what’s going on and I watch Ophelia Hart scan the room as the hostess looks nervously in the direction of my table.