Page 51
She stares at me for a moment, then, in a gesture so small, yet so loud, she lets the knife slip from her fingers. It clatters on the floor beside us, the sound loud and final.
She breaks our connection, moving fast to push past me as if none of this matters. Like she hasn’t just surrendered.
As she crosses the threshold, I catch her by the back of her neck—not hard, but firm enough to make her pause.
“Don’t threaten me with a knife again,” I whisper in her ear, my tone thick with danger. I place a quick kiss on her temple and let her go.
For the first time, I see something significant in the forest of her eyes.
We leave together. No words, just footsteps past the offering at the altar and back into the cold night.
* * *
Wynnie keeps her arms crossed tightly over her chest as we pull into the long drive that brings us up to my house. Her fingers twitch as if they miss the weight of the knife. She doesn’t speak until the headlights sweep across the manicured hedges and the wrought iron that stands in front.
“This… is your house?” she questions in admiration as we pull closer to the structure looming ahead of us.
Her eyes are locked on the stone and glass, softened by the warm light spilling from the tall windows. The sleek black roof glistens under the moonlight, and I watch her take in every detail in awe.
“Of course, did you think I lived in a shack?” I ask with a bright smile, easing the car into the circular drive. She shoots me a glare so sharp I can feel it slice through me. I can’t help but laugh under my breath.
Henry approaches before she can respond, moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who’s worked for my family for many years. I give him a subtle wave as he opens the door. She hesitates, eyes bouncing between him and me.
I get out, walking around the car to offer her my arm, a call back to when we ‘ran into each other’ before I took her out to ice cream. To my surprise, she takes it without a fight. Not out of trust, not yet.
“Don’t mistake this question as me actually caring, but all of this came from your father’s company?” She asks as we walk up the concrete steps, still craning her neck to look at the tall windows.
“Robert’s—No, well, I guess technically it’s mine again. But yes.”
I open the heavy front door, gesturing for her to step inside. A gasp slips from her throat as she steps into the foyer, not small or sarcastic like I would have guessed. It sounds through the open space, as if the house itself had exhaled.
The black marble floors shimmer under crystal chandeliers, streaked with fine white veins. Maroon leather chairs line the walls, looking untouched through all the years of use. It’s the grand staircase curving upward to the second floor that catches her attention the most.
“This place…” Her eyes scan every inch, almost trying to stamp it into her memory. “It’s actually huge. You’re positive you didn’t kill the owner and take over?”
“All mine, darling.”
I lead her up the staircase, my hand resting lightly on her lower back, the spot where the ends of her long hair brush. At the end of the hallway is a locked door that leads to my room.
We step inside, and she pauses at the entrance, her instincts recognizing whose room she’s stepping into and what stepping inside might mean.
“Wynnie,” I begin as I step around her, grabbing her hand to bring her further in. “When you realize that you’re just as in love with me as I am with you, this is yours. I’m not kidding, not even a little, when I say that. I want to share my world with you. What’s mine is yours.”
She doesn’t respond, and I watch as her gaze moves past me toward the balcony doors, floor-to-ceiling glass that opens out to a view of the town’s lights. Her posture shifts as she pulls her hand from mine, walking toward them. The night sky seems to have reached down and grabbed her, dragging her outside.
The wind picks up as it begins to sprinkle, sending dead leaves skittering across the ground. Wynnie stands at the railing, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, shoulders tense from the cold. The moonlight paints her silver, and combined with the browning splatters that decorate her skin, she looks absolutely stunning.
I step out behind her, my heart still pounding from everything we left back at her house.
“You’re being unusually quiet,” I murmur.
“What’s there to say?” She turns to look at me. “I killed your brother and sister, and for some weird… ungodly reason, you still brought me here like I did nothing. I’m still so angry. Your wealth won’t distract me, believe me when I say: I’ll kill you too when the opportunity presents itself.”
I don’t flinch at the alluring brutality of her words; I take a few steps closer until we’re nearly connected.
“You think I’m scared?”
Wynnie’s eyes narrow. She tries to shove me away; her hands push against my ribs with surprising strength. I grab her arms, keeping her close, my grip unyielding. The air between us cracks with tension as our gaze stays strong and fused. I stare deep into her green irises, burning every line and shift in shade into my memory.
