Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I say to the server as they hand me a to-go box with my second dinner inside. It’s still warm, and I’m still feeling the effects from the champagne I consumed in the car on the way over, so I’m feeling rather warm, too. Pleasantly so. I pull on my coat and make my way out of the empty cellar dining area.
Even though it hasn’t been a true speakeasy for a long time, the area looks untouched. If handsome men in pinstriped suits and hats came strolling in with beautiful women wearing flapper dresses and feathered headbands, I wouldn’t be surprised.
It reminds me of when I saw Silvan and thought he could be a time-traveling Viking.
Clearly, there’s something about this family. It’s like they can freeze time wherever they fit best and preserve it forever.
Then again, as I pass the gleaming mahogany bar, I know it’s no coincidence or gift of fate that the place is so well cared for after so long. Effort is put into stopping time, that’s why it looks like this.
Effort.
Silvan certainly put in effort for me tonight. The whole time I was eating, I kept waiting for him to pop up. It was like last night in my bedroom. I could feel his presence even though I couldn’t see him.
I guess I was wrong about him being there both times.
He didn’t assault me in my bed last night, and he didn’t join me for dinner this evening.
It seems he truly just wanted to make sure I was fed, and sure, it’s probably the champagne softening my brain so much that this thought can even burrow into it, but it’s surprisingly thoughtful.
I shake off the unwelcome thought.
It’s not thoughtful, Sophie. It’s probably strategic. He’s trying to play the nice guy and get you to lower your guard so he can swoop in…
As I step out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk, it occurs to me I don’t know what to do. Hugh dropped me off at the door, but now that I’m finished eating, I have no way of summoning him. How will he know when I need him to come back?
The thought hardly has time to finish passing through my mind before I see the gleaming black limo turn the corner on the next street up. I feel strangely content as I wait for it.
I guess it’s not all that strange. I just had a delicious meal I didn’t have to pay for, I have dinner for tomorrow in a box, and now I don’t even have to drive myself home; I get to ride back to my dorm in a limousine.
The vehicle glides up to the front of the restaurant and stops. On instinct, I step forward and reach for the door, but before I can, Hugh races around to open the door for me.
He looks mildly panicked that I thought I had to open the door for myself. God forbid I be so put out!
“I’ll get that for you, Miss Bradwell.”
“Thank you, Hugh. You’re so nice.”
He chuckles, then opens the door. “Did you have a pleasant dinner?”
“Oh, yes. Everything was delicious. And I do mean everything. I’m pretty sure I ordered half the menu.”
I climb in, put my dinner box down on the bar, and sink into the soft black leather. It’s a chilly night, but Hugh already has the car warmed up so I’m nice and toasty.
This is the life.
When Hugh gets back in the car, he puts the partition up.
A frown flickers across my brow, and I sit up a little straighter. My guard has gone up a bit since I told him I didn’t need the partition up before, but maybe he did it out of habit. Maybe Silvan or whomever he usually drives likes to have the divider up.
Even though I’m sure it’s nothing, my uncertainty makes me more aware of my surroundings. I glance at the bar where my champagne glass sits empty, the bottle still chilling in the bucket from earlier. I probably shouldn’t have more, but it was so good, and I don’t know when I’ll have champagne again.
I pour myself one more glass, then sit back in my seat. As I take a sip, I become aware of a little white box sitting on the seat beside me and nearly choke.
Where did that come from?
It certainly wasn’t there on the ride over to the restaurant.
Warily, I grab the box and pull it closer to me. A note on top reads, “Sophie,” so I know it’s for me.
My heart starts beating faster. I don’t want to open it, but I suppose I should.
It looks like a bracelet box but wider. When I take off the lid, I see a silk blindfold on a bed of black velvet, and my heart stalls.
The note from the lid flutters down on my lap, and I see that the back reads, “Put it on.”