Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Not for him to be mad at me, I know that.
Why is he mad at me? I’ve done exactly what he asked me to do. He doesn’t know I’ve gone back and forth about it, that I was mad and scared coming up the stairs. All he knows is that I came like he told me to, so why—
The door slams shut behind me, and I jump.
On instinct, I turn around, and when I do, my heart nearly drops out of my body.
Because it’s not Professor DeMarco darkening that closed doorway.
Chapter seventeen
Sophie
Silvan.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, all broad shoulders and chiseled features. He’s made of granite as he stalks toward me, and without thought, I back away from him.
“Wh—what are you doing here?” I stammer, confused.
He’s wearing jeans and a black T-shirt stretched tight over his well-muscled body. He seems to grow larger as he closes in on me. My chest tightens when I feel the wall at my back and realize there’s nowhere left to run.
“Silvan, please.” The words tumble out without thought. I don’t know why, but I know I require mercy right now.
He grabs a fistful of my pink infinity scarf and yanks me close. A startled cry slips out of me as he grabs my jaw, using his grip on my face to push me back against the wall.
“Tell me you’re sorry,” he says evenly, but despite his tone, I can feel the danger radiating off him.
I don’t even think, I just obey. “I’m sorry,” I whisper tremulously.
For what?
It doesn’t matter. Whatever he wants me to be sorry for.
“Such pretty words,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my lips. “Do you mean them?” he asks almost absently.
“Why are you here?” I whisper.
His lips tug up, but not with any real humor. “Why are you?”
My stomach bottoms out.
I know in reality I haven’t done anything wrong, but he makes me feel like I have.
His tone is frighteningly calm despite the anger I can feel burning inside him. “I can’t decide if I’m angrier that you accepted his invitation and showed up in his fucking bedroom, or that you exposed parts of your soul to him when I thought I’d made it clear I was fucking hungry for any single little thing about you that you’d be willing to share.”
His grip on my jaw eases, but only so he can wrap his hand around my throat instead.
On instinct, I grab his wrist as if that might keep him from hurting me.
“Tell me who you wanted to be, Sophie. Tell me what you’re afraid of, what makes you uncomfortable. Tell me everything about you, because I want to know.”
My heart hammers and my skin feels hot. I swallow, and I can feel the shackle of his hand locked around my throat. “You disappeared,” I say softly.
“I had to see what you’d do without my interference.” His fingers move and he presses his thumb against the thundering pulse in my neck. “See, there are things I didn’t want to be, too.”
Keeping a firm grip so I’m trapped against the wall unless I want to choke, he leans in, inhaling my scent and closing his eyes.
His voice remains calm, but his words still make my heart skitter. “I thought the last thing I would ever want to be is my father. He loves a woman who can’t be trusted, but he loves her with everything he has. It sounds sad, doesn’t it? I always thought it was. Fucking pitiful. But I’m learning something tonight,” he murmurs, his grip on my throat tightening painfully.
My grip on his wrist tightens, and when he leans into me, I grab his side, desperate enough for his goodwill that I’ll… I’ll do anything for it.
He sees it.
“Unbutton my pants.”
Struggling to breathe with his grip on my throat, I drop both of my hands and unbutton his pants.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
A jolt of electricity pierces the desperate fear, but it’s too confusing to process.
“I like you desperate.”
My heart sinks, but I can’t speak and I don’t try to.
“You’re damaged goods, aren’t you, Sophie?”
I flinch at his words.
“I don’t mind,” he continues smoothly. “I like broken things. And I like inflicting my wrath on the things that caused that damage, too.”
Fear numbs my mind, and my eyes go wide.
He took control of me with fear the moment I stepped inside this room, so it never even occurred to me…
“Where… where is Professor DeMarco?”
He shrugs but it feels like a lie.
Panic grips me. “Silvan… Silvan, where…?” My voice shakes, but I don’t even know what to ask.
My god, he didn’t hurt him, did he?
I can’t breathe.
“Silvan, he—he didn’t do anything. Please tell me you didn’t…”
It shouldn’t even be in the realm of possibility he might have hurt him, but Silvan is not normal. He doesn’t operate in the realm of normal expectations.