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Brushing my hair away from my shirt collar, he kissed the back of my neck, sending a wave of goosebumps over my skin. “How much longer?”
“They have to rest.”
“Good. Come see.” He slipped his hand into mine and tugged me toward the front of the house.
“What have you done now?”
He laughed, but conveniently did not supply an answer. As we rounded the corner for the parlor, I expected the furniture to be rearranged, or new drapery installed. Instead, a giant photograph hung over the fireplace, replacing the oil painting of the mansion that previously hung there.
It was us, on one of our last nights in Puerto Rico. We’d gone to the Ruins and managed to capture an amazing picture at sunset. Now, here it was, in a stunning frame on full display.
More than commemorating a trip, the photograph summed up our entire relationship. I was dressed in my customary all-black suit and tie. Bennett was also in a black suit, though he paired it with a bright red shirt. As usual, he opted for no tie and left the shirt unbuttoned most of the way, showcasing the jangle of necklaces laying on his smooth chest. We were surrounded by the beauty of a crumbling nineteenth-century lighthouse and a windswept beach, but for all that, we only had eyes for each other.
Without a doubt, that picture confirmed how much I loved him — how much he loved me. It was in every facet of our body language, from the genuine smiles to the way our hands intertwined. Like any photograph, it was only a fraction of a moment, a mere glimpse at a feeling I’d been chasing my entire life. Before Bennett, love was something I only ever read about in books.
And it terrified me.
From the moment I confessed my love, or maybe even before, a countdown began, a silent bomb waiting to go off. How long until his love turned to hate? How long before Fate decided to intervene, giving me this chance at genuine happiness only to take it away, as had happened to so many of my family members? Worse yet — how long until I became too much for him? Until he decided he’d made a mistake? Until he ultimately left?
“Do you like it?” Bennett murmured over my shoulder, hugging me from behind again.
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I nodded, forcing a smile to my lips. “It’s perfect.”
9
Bennett
It was just one ofthosedays. The kind where you regretted getting up the minute you opened your eyes. A day full of meetings and paperwork left me with a raging headache and a desperation for some oxy. I knew I’d have to settle for something over-the-counter, which made me even crankier when I pulled in the driveway. I could have stayed in Chicago another night, but I just wanted to be home. And home was on the opposite side of the damn state.
“Fuck.”
Parked in front of the house was a silver car I didn’t recognize. Leander didn’t say anything about having a dinner guest, but who knew. He’d been out of touch all day. Maybe he didn’t get my last text where I said I was on my way.
I tried to muster up some semblance of civility as I climbed the back stairs.
Surprisingly, the kitchen was empty and there were zero signs of a dinner in progress. No pots, no pans. No dirty dishes. Not even a bottle of wine. He always served wine. God knew there was enough in the cellar to serve the entire town.
Furrowing my brows, I made my way down the hallway toward the front of the house. Maybe they were just having drinks. Unlikely, but possible.
“My love?”
No answer.
There weren’t any signs of life in the parlor, the library, or the conservatory. The music room was still off limits, since Leander destroyed it and we’d yet to decide if we were going to replace the piano. Where the fuck was he?
Inexplicable dread filled me as I glanced up at the ceiling. Maybe they were in the billiard’s room. Or on the terrace. The third-floor ballroom. The tower. Anywhere but the west wing.
I climbed the stairs at a snail’s pace.
Each step down the western hallway made my pulse beat that much faster. The pounding in my head matched the spasms in my chest until I wasn’t sure which would explode first.
I was almost to Leander’s room when I jerked to a halt. The smell of sex and distinct groaning hit me at the same time. Maleandfemale.
“You son of a bitch,” I snarled, storming through the open door and nearly tripping over his discarded black clothes and a ripped red dress.
As I’d feared — as I’dknown— would happen, Leander was there. With Lorelei. She was on all fours in front of him, gripping the footboard while he fucked her from behind.
At my arrival, he at least had the decency to stop. But then he smiled at me. The bastard smiled! One of his dark, sexy “I know I’m fucking evil” smiles.
