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)
They still gaze at each other with such warmth. His dark eyes dance when he watches her put the pitcher back down. He still enjoys watching her.
I wonder if Silvan would still look at me like that in twenty years?
My tummy jumps when the thought passes through my mind. It’s the way he looks at me now. I thought that must always fade, but his parents seem to have found a way to keep the spark alive.
Maybe that’s why Silvan is so confident when he says crazy things about marrying me like we’ll spend our whole lives together. Marriage must not seem daunting when you have parents who still adore each other after decades together.
When she sits back down, I’m curious enough to finally summon the nerve to speak. Keeping my gaze trained on his mom like a horse wearing blinders, I ask, “What is it you do? I don’t think Silvan has mentioned it.”
She cocks her head curiously, like my question doesn’t compute.
“For work,” I clarify.
“Oh.” She laughs. “I don’t work. I mean, I’m involved with philanthropic work, of course. The women in Richard’s family have been for generations. But aside from running the house and my family…” She trails off, shaking her head.
I’m not judging her—it’s hardly my business what she chooses to do with her life—but I get the impression Silvan’s father thinks I am, because he says sharply, “Pride in working yourself to death to make someone else’s fortune is a working-class value. I assume you don’t come from money, Sophie.”
My cheeks heat. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach, even though I’m hardly ashamed of my background. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I wasn’t… I don’t…”
Silvan’s voice is hard. “It doesn’t matter what kind of background she comes from.”
His father lifts his fresh cup of coffee and takes a slow sip, making all of us wait for his response. When he’s damn good and ready, he says, “That’s naïve, Silvan. It certainly can matter. If you come from different worlds, you both have to be willing to compromise and learn from one another. She’s been brought up one way, you’ve been brought up an entirely different way. It won’t be the most harmonious union.”
Clearly, his dad doesn’t approve of this relationship.
Not because Silvan kidnapped me, but because my bank account is too empty for his liking.
I feel ridiculous caring when his approval should be the last thing that concerns me, but I hate that feeling so much, his withholding of approval makes me… sort of want it.
To my surprise, Silvan’s mom jumps to my defense. “She’s young, Richard. She can learn to fit into a different lifestyle from the one she was brought up in.” Her voice lowers and she leans in to murmur, “I truly don’t think she meant any offense.”
“I didn’t,” I say quickly. “I was just curious.”
I make the mistake of meeting his gaze, so I feel like a spotlight is shining down on me when he asks, “Do you think a woman should work?”
“I… I think a woman should do whatever she wants.”
“Do you consider it debasing for a wife to take care of her husband?”
Eyes wide, I shake my head no.
“Good.” That word should bring some relief, but it doesn’t. Without tearing his gaze from mine, he says, “I believe Silvan’s cup is a little low.”
My jaw unhinges, but I catch it before my mouth can open to convey my shock.
Does he really expect me to…?
“Dad,” Silvan says, a low warning in his tone.
But his father doesn’t waver. He holds my gaze, and only drops it to glance pointedly at the carafe on the table between us.
My stomach drops like a rock, but against all sense, I find my unsteady hands reaching for the silver pitcher.
There’s no time to consider what I’m doing. My chair makes an embarrassingly loud noise to draw more attention—as if it’s not already on me—as I gracelessly rise and my legs push it back. My cheeks burn as I grab the carafe and turn toward Silvan.
What am I doing?
I’m shaky and unsettled until Silvan grabs my hip with one hand, pulling me in closer to him. My gaze jumps to his, and where I feel frazzled and uncertain, he looks calm and comfortable.
His energy overpowers mine and his calm seeps into me. I get my perspective back and realize it’s just a cup of coffee. I can even see amusement dancing in his pretty green eyes, reminding me of his teasing about me being his slave girl in the escape room.
When I’m just focused on him, it doesn’t feel so embarrassing to refill his coffee cup. Once I’ve put the carafe back down on the table, he even pulls me into his lap—something I’m certain I should find embarrassing right in front of his parents—and settles one hand around my waist to keep me there as he grabs the mug and takes a nice, slow sip.