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)
“The brownstone, Hamish.”
“You have a driver?” I ask Silas as he straps me in, the two-and-a-half martinis I drank hitting me. “La di da.” I lean my head against the seat and close my eyes to stop the spinning.
He brushes my hair back, the touch of his hand against my skin electric, but when he sets something freezing against my temple, my eyelids fly open.
“What the—”
“You’re cute when you’re drunk. Hold this,” he says. I take it and he sits back, taking out his phone and scrolling.
“Where did you get an ice cube?” I ask.
He points to the ice bucket. Of course, the car comes stocked with drinks.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s for the swelling.”
I lower the window and toss the ice out. “Are you texting your date?” I ask, leaning over to have a look.
“I am, actually.” He pulls his phone away.
“Or should I say sexting?” I cock an eyebrow.
A corner of his mouth tugs upward. This is Silas Cruz amused. I like this version of him. “Would you be jealous if I was?”
“Of course not. Why would I be jealous?”
He turns the phone around to show me he texted that he was sending her an Uber. She replies with two questions marks while it’s still turned toward me.
“She wants to know if she should put on the kitty ears and tail when she gets to your hotel,” I lie, closing my eyes again.
He laughs outright. “Not sure you can see straight to read in your condition, lightweight.”
“I had drinks before. I’m not a lightweight.” I feel the need to justify, although honestly, I kind of am. The heat is blasting, and the seat is so comfortable that I settle in. I only open my eyes when my head comes to rest against his warm, firm shoulder. He glances down at me, but he doesn’t push me away.
“Almost there,” he says gently, and I close them again, inhaling his scent, that familiar aftershave making all kinds of memories surface, all kinds of emotions twisting and swelling inside me.
I can admit looking back that I had a pretty big crush on Silas Cruz growing up. Who wouldn’t? Now, though, those feelings are confused especially as we fall into our old roles again. Him, the knight in shining armor, me, the damsel in distress.
“You’re always rescuing me, Silas Cruz,” I hear myself say.
“You always seem to be in need of rescuing, Ophelia Hart.”
12
SILAS
Past
When Heroes Break, part 2
Ophelia nods off as Hamish maneuvers streets that grow increasingly quiet as snow blankets Boston. Hamish isn’t only my driver. Nigella Gibson, my attorney, introduced me to him when I needed help with a situation that required special handling. He’s been with me ever since. He doesn’t ask questions, and he is trustworthy, two qualities I appreciate greatly.
I have been back in town for a few days closing a deal. Running into Ophelia Hart had been a possibility but not a probability. It hasn’t happened the half-dozen times I’ve been here the last two years. I know where she attends school and the building in which she lives, but I haven’t seen her apart from when I switch on the TV and find either Horatio Hart’s or Sly Fox’s faces splashed across the screen detailing the latest in the embezzlement case. That’s not to say I haven’t looked for her.
I am also well aware of the fact that she’s still dating Ethan Fox. That’s been on the news too. The legal trouble Hart and Fox have has pitted them against one another and the papers are loving the young couple at the heart of it.
They call them star-crossed lovers. Eye roll. They are no Romeo and Juliet.
Ethan Fox is incapable of love, and Ophelia, well, I can’t imagine her in love with the likes of Ethan Fox. I just can’t believe she’s dating the enemy, and I can’t imagine her father is happy about it.
I look down at Ophelia. She’s grown from the bookish, shy girl into a beautiful woman. I always knew she would. Her hair is loose down her back, and the curls are a little out of control. I like it. Any time I see her with Ethan, her hair is ironed flat. She’s wearing makeup, but most of it has faded, leaving just a little smudged black around her eyes. It’s sexy. She will have a bruise where I accidentally elbowed her, though, and that I am sorry about.
When we get to the house, I thank Hamish, who tells me he’ll be back by nine in the morning to take me to the airport. I head back to Atlanta tomorrow.
“Check the weather. Flights may not be going depending on the snow.”
“Will do, sir. You need me to help…” he trails off, gesturing to the still sleeping Ophelia.
“I got her.”
He nods and I climb out, then lift Ophelia out. She makes a sound and lays her head against my chest. I remember the night I lifted her out of the pool when idiot Ethan was giving her swimming lessons. Prick. She doesn’t weigh much more now than she did then.