Page 1 of The Silent Hour

CHAPTER ONE

MY MOTHER ALWAYS SAID there were two kinds of mistakes a woman could make.

The ones she regretted.

And the ones she made peace with before deciding whether somebody else needed to regret them for her.

I was twenty-four the night I met Ethan Marcelli, and back then, I hadn't accumulated enough mistakes to appreciate the difference.

Toya would've argued differently.

She'd already confiscated my keys, shoved two shots into my hands, and informed me that whatever happened during her cousin's bachelorette party would be between us, God, and whichever bartender was unfortunate enough to remember it tomorrow.

The bass from the club rattled through my chest, lights strobing pink and gold across a sea of sequins and liquor glasses.

Latoya shoved the scavenger hunt list back into my hands.

"Your turn!"

Her cousin Mehgan was already halfway through hers, daring a bartender to let her do belly shots off him, her dark curls wild and untamed.

I looked down at the list with determination. I wasn't about to lose just because she was the bride-to-be.

Item seven: Borrow a man's tie.

Easy enough. I scanned the crowd and all the men who fit the criteria until I saw him.

Damn.

Broad shoulders, dark suit, sleeves rolled just enough to show a flash of ink at his wrist. He leaned against the second bar with a group of men who looked like they'd stepped out of a GQ spread.

I knew his type or thought I did. Men like him had been wandering in and out of my peripheral vision since childhood. Mama had taught me to watch their hands.

Tato had taught me to watch everyone else's.

Right then I watched neither, because he was wearing a tie. Motherfucking jackpot.

I smoothed my hair back, straightened my with the bride sash, and walked right up to him. His eyes found mine instantly, steady and sharp as I held his stare.

"You," I announced, stopping in front of him. "I need a man with a tie."

His eyebrows lifted. "That's all I'm good for?"

"Sorry, but yeah." I waved the list between us. "You're number seven."

His friends laughed and elbowed him. He didn't look at them. He loosened his tie with one hand, slid it free, and held it out.

"Then cross me off."

I took it, my fingers catching his. Something shot up my arm that I had no business feeling. I scribbled the checkmark and draped the tie around my shoulders.

"I'll bring this back to?" I let it hang.

"Ethan."

His mouth had curved into something slow and certain, and up close I was noticing things I had no business noticing either. Smoke and whiskey underneath the cologne. A black ink band at his wrist where his sleeve had ridden up, and the suggestion of another tattoo where his collar sat open.

I made myself look back up at his glorious face.