Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
The club’s pulse feels dimmer as we weave back to our table. The air fills with the next performer’s voice, but it fails to hold me. Raye’s words—he’s wild about you—loop in my head, a velvet trap I can’t escape.
Hugh’s close, his presence a magnetic pull, but I can’t look at him, not yet. My thoughts are a storm—did he plan this night to pull me in, to soften me for his own ends? Or is it… something else? Something I’m afraid to name? The magic of the night begins to fray at the edges, and starts to feel like I’m drowning in it, my red dress suddenly a vice, its sequins heavy, constricting my ribs. The wine’s delicious ice-cold taste, once an elegant comfort, has faded, leaving my mouth dry, my fingers cold.
I need space, air, a moment to untangle myself.
“I need a sec,” I murmur, my voice barely audible over the club’s hum, and slip away before he can respond. My heels echo in the quieter hallway outside. The bathroom door swings shut behind me, muffling the music, and I’m alone. The silence is a relief. I face the mirror, my reflection stark under the harsh lights—cheeks flushed, eyes wide, a curl slipping from my updo. I tug at it and try to fix it, but my hands tremble, and Raye’s voice echoes in my head.
Cecilia’s poisonous whispers about his reputation claw at me, sharp and insistent and doubt starts to gnaw, merciless and relentless. I grip the sink’s edge, the porcelain cold against my palms, anchoring me against the tide. But what about his kindness? The plumber, the lamp, tonight. They are a soft drip, a drip that makes me want to believe it’s more than an elaborate ruse to get my property.
Suddenly, the door swings open, and a woman appears in the mirror beside me, and her presence is sudden and commanding. She’s tall, her dark hair sleek, her silver dress shimmering like liquid wealth, hugs a model-like slenderness. Everything about her screams confidence. Her reflection catches my eye, and her smile is sharp as a blade.
“So you’re the new toy,” she drawls, her voice smooth, honey laced with venom. “The Duke of Beauclerk’s shiny new thing.”
My breath stops. The word toy lands like a slap, raw and humiliating. “Excuse me?” I say, my voice proud, but it shakes, betraying me.
She senses victory and steps closer, her perfume, something sophisticated and expensive, chokes me. “Take it from me. I’m Meredith, one of his discarded toys,” she says.
I don’t move, I can’t. My arms are locked at my sides. She turns to the sink and starts washing her hands, her blood-red, perfect nails. The water’s soft rush fills the silence. “He uses women like tissues,” she says, her tone almost pitying. “He pulls them out of their boxes, gets them all wet, then tosses them into the wastepaper basket when he’s done.”
She shakes her hands dry, the blood-red, perfect nails sailing around prettily. Then she reaches for a hand towel, wipes her hands with it, and tosses it into the bin with a flick of her wrist. The gesture is deliberately pointed and final. “So… enjoy it while it lasts, I guess, sweetheart. He’s handsome, generous, oh-so-charming… but you’ll end up in the trash like the rest of us. No dreams, no fantasies—just the truth.”
Her smile twists, a curl of her lips, and she glides toward the door, her heels loud on the tiles, leaving a chill in her wake. I’m shaking, my reflection pale, my knuckles white against the sink. Another woman comes in and heads straight for one of the cubicles. My chest heaves, each breath shallow, and I tell myself it doesn’t matter.
I’m not his lover, not his anything.
I’m just here for Raye, for one night of escape from toiling all the hours that God sent on my cottage. I wasn’t expecting more. I wasn’t hoping… was I? The sting is raw, real, cutting deeper than I want to admit, and I hate how it shakes me, how it makes me question every moment and motive.
I frown at my reflection. Meredith’s cruel malice collides with Raye’s sincere words in my head—he’s wild about you. Hugh’s quiet gestures, the way he looks at me, fills me, and I’m lost, adrift in a sea of contradictions. I make myself move, splashing cold water on my wrists, the shock steadying me. I smooth my dress, adjust my hair again, my fingers steadier now, and take a long breath, willing my face to hide the chaos in my head and heart. I step back into the hall, the club’s noise rushing in, and make my way to our table, each step heavier than the last. Hugh’s there, watching, his eyes catching mine as I sit, concern flickering in them, like he senses the shift in me.