Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
A knock comes on the door, and we both turn as it opens and a woman carrying a tray walks inside. She stops when she sees I’m awake—surprised, maybe—then smiles warmly.
“There you are,” she says and crosses the room to set the tray on the desk before coming toward me. “I’m Lourdes. I’ve been looking after you, Ophelia.” She takes my hand to check my pulse. “How do you feel?”
I remember her voice. I’d thought it was a dream, but I must have heard her talking while I was semi-conscious, feeling like I was trapped under ice.
The thought has me suddenly panicked.
“It’s all right,” Silas says, sensing the change in me and closing a big hand over my shoulder. “You’re safe now. I promise.”
The touch of his hand on my bare skin, the heat of it, burns. I want to pull away and lean into it at once. My heart twists when I recall his betrayal. The fire. Silas walking out of my house before the fire destroyed it.
What Ethan did, what the Foxes did? It all pales in comparison to what Silas did because Silas means so much more to me than Ethan ever has.
I look up at him and what he sees in my eyes has his growing wary. He draws his hand away, uncertain. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look hesitant. Silas Cruz is always confident and in control.
“Let’s get you back into bed,” Lourdes says. “Silas, can you help me?” She gestures to Silas to help lift me fully back into the bed.
“I can do it. I don’t need help,” I say.
“I’ll help you anyway,” Silas says, clearly hurt by my reaction. Too bad for him.
“Don’t touch me.”
Silas flinches as if slapped.
“Silas,” the woman starts, setting her hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. Go get a bowl of broth for Ophelia. Emiliano is in the kitchen. Go on.”
I heave myself back into the bed, my body heavy as an anchor. Silas and I watch one another, and I know this isn’t what he was expecting.
“Go, Silas,” Lourdes says firmly.
It takes him a minute but he acquiesces. I’m both relieved and wounded when he goes. I’ve always known that this man could break me, haven’t I?
He leaves the door open, and I see a light on inside, the shadows of another fire burning in another room.
“I need to get out of here,” I tell Lourdes, not sure where I will go or how but knowing I need to be away from Silas, from Ethan. I need to think and figure things out. “Wait. The accident. Was anyone else hurt?”
“Everyone is fine,” Lourdes says and checks some of my bandages. She touches my neck and I wince, remembering. “Whoever gave you this injection didn’t know what he or she was doing. I assume it was some sort of sedative. The effects have mostly worn off but between that and the accident and, well, the bruises from before,” she says that part more quietly. “I’m sure you aren’t feeling your best. I have aspirin but didn’t want to give you anything stronger until you woke up and could decide for yourself. I’m a trained nurse, although these days I mostly just take care of Emiliano.”
“Who is Emiliano?”
“Oh, of course, you don’t know him,” she says, tucking the blanket around my legs. She’s trying to make me feel at ease, but I just need to get out of here. “Emiliano is my brother. He knew Esmerelda. We both did. I think it’s why Silas brought you here. He’s very worried about you.”
“You knew Esmerelda?”
She nods, peels a bandage off my forehead. “This is better already. You heal fast,” she says with a smile. “A few more nights and you’ll be back to yourself.”
“A few more nights? No. I need to go. I need my clothes and I need to go.”
“Oh, dear, where would you go?” she asks with a small, kind smile. “We’re buried under snow.”
Silas walks inside carrying a steaming mug.
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Lourdes says.
“No, don’t go,” I say.
She looks to Silas, who nods. She squeezes my foot, then gives me a warm smile. “You can trust him,” she says.
Before I can tell her you can’t trust anyone, she leaves.
Silas closes the door behind her. He studies me for a moment, as if considering how to proceed, then crosses the room. “Drink this,” he says, holding the mug out to me.
I look up at him. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“It’s not from me. Lourdes made it.”
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s not drugged. That’s Ethan’s MO.”
I glare up at him. “No, you’re right. You want me alert so you can watch my face as you twist the knife.”
“That’s dramatic, don’t you think?”
“It fits, don’t you think?” I retort.
His eyes darken. “Whatever they said about me, it’s not true. They’re liars, O. You should know that by now.”