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)
“Like I told you that night, better me than my father,” he says with a glance at the door. “Take these. I don’t want to give you more of the other one.”
I hear what he said then. That night. Not last night. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“Three days.”
“What? Where are we?”
“Boston. Here, take these. We need to talk before he gets here.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think? Take them or don’t, I don’t really give a fuck. It’s not my problem.”
I take them from him before he pulls his hand away, but he has to help me with the water.
“Where is Silas?” I ask against my better judgment.
He snorts, shakes his head, and sets the water down. He walks to the window and looks out over the city. Although he seems so lost in thought, I wonder if he is seeing anything at all.
“What I did the other night, I didn’t want to do that to you. You know that, right?”
I don’t actually so I don’t answer. Because I remember the look on his face as he wielded that belt.
He turns to me. “We all have to do things we don’t want to do, Phee. You included.”
I feel that ring burn a circle around my finger and a building sense of urgency has me trying to swing my legs out of the bed.
“Where is Silas?”
“He’s in jail, and he’ll be in prison soon, where he belongs. He’ll be prosecuted for arson. He burnt down your fucking house, and you’re asking where he is? You give a shit? Still? Christ. Maybe my father was right about you. All those years I tried to protect you from him, and this is how you repay me?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, I can’t think about the house being gone, not now.
“We don’t have much time, so I’m going to lay it out for you. You’re going to need to do what I say, or I won’t be able to protect you.”
“I don’t understand.” I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, my head hurts, my body aches.
“We’re eloping. Tonight. You and me.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I need you to get up, get showered. Wash the stink of him off you because I can’t fucking stand it for another minute.” He stalks toward me, seeming to grow angry at the thought. “Do you know I took care of you these last few days and all I could see was him fucking you. It’s all I could smell, the sex. How could you?” he asks, his lip curled, and I wonder for the first time if all these years he’s hated Silas more than he’s ever cared about me.
“I told you, Ethan. I’m not in love with you. We broke up—”
He snorts, walks away.
“I’m not marrying you. I don’t care what you say.”
A commotion in the outer room draws both our attention. The door swings open, no knock, and in walks Sly Fox. His teeth gleam, appearing sharp as he smiles wide, dressed impeccably in a bespoke suit, hair slicked back, diamond cufflinks glinting at his wrists. He looks refreshed but I see through him, finally. I see how different the turquoise of his eyes is from that of Silas’s.
Silas.
Did he really do it? Burn down my house before coming to the gala. Before doing what we did? Is he so duplicitous?
“She’s awake. Good.” Sly says, closing the door. He drops his smile when he looks at his son, and I watch them together, remembering what Sly insinuated. That he beat his son. I remember it was Sly who demanded my punishment. But Ethan protecting me by whipping me? No, that’s not how you protect someone.
He turns to Ethan. “Why isn’t she dressed?”
Ethan leans against the wall and folds his arms across his chest. “Phee? You want to tell my father what you just told me?”
I tug the blanket over my chest and am glad when Sly speaks because I don’t want to tell him anything. I’m afraid of him. More afraid of him than of Ethan.
Sly grins. He must sense that fear. “Phee. I assume Ethan has explained what will happen next?”
“I’m not marrying him.” My heart thuds as I say the words.
Sly’s lip curls. “No? I think you are.”
“Where is Silas? What did you do to him?”
“Me? I didn’t do a thing. He did it all himself. He’s in jail, Phee. For arson.” He turns to Ethan. “Thought you’d have told her that.”
“I did.”
“Switch on the TV,” Sly tells Ethan who walks across the room to do as he’s told then hands the remote to Sly who clicks through to what he must have recorded earlier. It’s from the night of the gala. I see the date in the corner of the screen as the reporter talks about the fire that consumed my house in record time.