Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Scarlett

Micah and I walk up the stairs toward our bedroom. The thick carpet muffles our footsteps, but each creak of the ancient wooden floorboards beneath seems to echo the tension between us. Moonlight streams through the tall windows, casting long shadows that dance across the walls like spectral observers.

We just got back home. The night air still clings to our clothes, carrying the faint scent of rain and late autumn leaves.

He's holding my hand the way he did on the journey home in the car, his grip firm yet gentle, his thumb occasionally brushing across my knuckles in a way that sends shivers down my spine. His palm is warm against mine, a stark contrast to the cool evening air that followed us inside.

We're still silent, even though it feels like a million questions fill the space between us and the weight of unspoken words lingers in the air, making each breath feel heavy with anticipation.

The evening ended well despite the sour encounter with Eloise, but her perfectly painted smile still cuts deep into me.

After dinner, she and her family left, and I spent the rest of the evening with Genevieve, Belinda, and Clarissa. While the men hung out playing poker and drinking, we went to Genevieve's chambers, where they asked me all sorts of things about my acting career.

It felt great to be immersed in such an engaging atmosphere where people genuinely wanted to get to know me. It was even better given the fact that I'm Micah's fiancé and they haven't known me for very long. Their laughter still echoes in my mind, a balm against the earlier tension.

But the question of Eloise hangs in the air like a thick fog of smoke. It wasn't appropriate for me to ask Micah about her while we were still at his parents’ house. But it is now that we're alone. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticks away the seconds, each sound like a hammer against my racing thoughts.

Micah guides me into the bedroom, where he releases my hand and loosens his tie. The silk makes a soft whisper as it slides against his collar. I close the door behind me and walk in, stopping in the center of the room. While he leans against the wall and stares back at me, his dark eyes reflecting the warm glow from the bedside lamp, his shoulders are tense beneath his tailored jacket, the material pulling slightly across his broad frame.

"Ask me," he says in a gentle voice. The words seem to resonate through the room, making the air itself vibrate with possibility.

I know I don't need to clarify what he means. He's talking about Eloise. That elephant has grown between us since she dropped the bomb that she was his ex.

I bring my hands together, lacing my fingers, and gaze at him, deciding there are no right words to say, only the basic questions that's been floating around in my mind.

"Why was your ex there tonight?" There, I said it.

He sighs a long, heavy sigh and rests his head back on the wall. Then his lips part to answer, but he pauses for a few more seconds as if contemplating what to say. Then finally, he speaks. "Eloise and her family have always been close to mine. Her father is best friends with my father."

"You guys sound really close."

"We are. But that's not an excuse, and I'm not agreeing that she should have been there. I think it was highly inappropriate. But I guess the diplomatic answer is that since our families are close, it was expected that they'd all attend our engagement dinner party."

I swallow past the lump in my throat. Telling me that's the diplomatic answer leads me to the next obvious question. "What's the non-diplomatic answer?"

Micah presses his lips together and levels me a hard stare. It's not the kind that chastises for asking him such a question. It's the other kind of stare, one that tells me the truth will hurt.

"Eloise and her family were there because my father wanted me to marry her and has been very insistent about it."

His confession hits me like a punch to my gut, and I can't even lie to myself and believe I'm not hurt. Or jealous. Because I am hurt, and I am jealous.

And it's obvious. My cheeks feel warm, suggesting they're flushed, and I know I look uncomfortable.

I feel like I should have guessed those details about Eloise. After all, didn't I sense it when I first saw her? Even when I didn't know who she was, I thought she was Micah's type. She seemed to fit the bill with her pristine good looks and confidence. She also comes from a strong Italian family, someone more suited to be Micah's wife.

"Why didn't you pick her?" The words flow out of my mind without me thinking, or maybe I am thinking, and my mind is speaking quicker than my mouth can. "Eloise seems like she’s still hung up on you, and if your father preferred her, then you'd have every reason to marry her."

I know I probably sound jealous and sour, but I think I'm asking valid questions. Micah knows it, too.

"No, I didn't have every reason to pick her." His answer is filled with so much poignancy, it's like he's said so many more words than the ones spoken.

“But your father doesn’t approve of me.”

“He doesn’t know you, and it doesn’t matter to me if he approves of you or not.”

"Why?" My voice is soft and searching. “What’s so good about me?”

Micah straightens, stepping away from the wall. "Everything. And I told you before, I want you."

"But Eloise?—"

"She cheated on me."

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. I didn't know." There's no way I would have even thought that from the way she spoke to me. If I'd been her, I would have stayed silent. No wonder Genevieve put her in her place the way she did.

"She cheated on me back in college. So, it was a long time ago. But if I'm being honest, I know we wouldn't have lasted. I didn't love her. I never wanted to marry someone who felt like a business contract to me. We were only together because people expected us to be."

My soul stills and I gaze back at him, picking apart his words and trying to read what he isn't saying. What he isn't saying about me. "Aren't we a business contract?"

He grins at me and shakes his head. "Not to me. That's not how I see us."

"How do you see us? We signed the contract."

"That's just a piece of paper. A clever idea."

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't selfish with Eloise, but with you, I am. You and I come from different worlds. I know our paths would never cross if not for that chip, and yet I would have found any excuse to make you mine."

"Micah..." His name leaves my lips like a prayer, barely a whisper. My heart pounds against my ribs so hard I wonder if he can hear it. The raw possessiveness in his voice makes my knees weak, and something primal and hungry unfurls in my belly. A shiver races down my spine as I process his words— he would have found any excuse to make me his . The thought should terrify me, coming from a man like him, but instead, it makes me feel powerful, wanted, consumed. Heat floods my cheeks as I realize I want him to be selfish with me, and I want him to want me with that dangerous intensity that makes his eyes darken and his jaw clench.

"I shouldn't be happy that you needed me. I shouldn't be happy that you needed to be saved. I shouldn't be happy that you met me. One of the most dangerous men you'll ever meet. But I am. I never felt like that about Eloise. She didn't make me want to rip the world apart to find a reason to keep her. Not the way you do."

His words have my blood singing in my veins, and all I can do is stare at him. Shock has consumed my thoughts and spread over my body like ice, but his stare warms me, infusing my body with the strength of whatever this thing is between us. The room seems to pulse with electricity, every nerve ending alive with awareness of his presence.

"Is that how you really feel about me?" I rasp, unable to contain the warmth swelling in my heart. My voice sounds foreign to my own ears, raw with emotion.

"You know it is. Come here." He beckons me to go to him, and I do. The distance between us feels infinite and microscopic all at once, each step bringing me closer to the magnetic pull of his presence.

Slowly, I walk toward him, and he pulls me in for a kiss. The world narrows to just this moment: the solid warmth of his chest against mine, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the whiskey on his breath, and the way his hands tremble slightly as they draw me closer, betraying the depth of his emotions.

My own emotions betray me like they always do when we’re together. But this time feels different. The walls I’ve built around my heart crumble and I fall for him. I fall so hard I know I’ll never be able to pick myself up off the ground.

I know I did everything I said I wouldn’t do, but I’d rather love him and feel like this for however long we last than not.

Even if he’s the death of me. It would have been worth it.

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