Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
It wasn’t salvation, though … was it? I watch them interact—the easy familiarity, the way Lee checks to ensure no one’s watching. The world crumbles beneath my feet. The pieces click together with devastating clarity.
The perfectly timed harassment.
The convenient offer of protection.
The careful manipulation of my fears.
My knees weaken, but I force myself to stay upright. Force myself to keep watching as one of the men laughs at something Lee says. Force myself to accept that everything—from those first threatening encounters to this very moment—was calculated.
I was never anything but a means to an end.
A solution to his family problems.
A puppet in his performance.
The crystal champagne flutes on nearby tables catch the light, throwing prisms across the marble floor. They blur as tears threaten, but I blink them back. I won’t give him, or anyone else, the satisfaction of seeing me break. Especially not Katherine, standing here so pleased with herself.
I raise my chin as I meet her shrewd gaze. “You knew?”
She shrugs slightly. “Only today, when the private investigator I pay to keep an eye on Lee showed me his recent photos.” There’s no bite in her tone. She doesn’t need to hurt me further, not when she’s already won. And she knows that.
I nod.
I made a deal. I gave my word. I’ll see this through—and then I’ll walk away.
From him. From this. From everything I was stupid enough to believe was real.
Even if it kills me.
Even if part of me still wants to believe in tonight’s perfect performance.
Even if my heart breaks with each new understanding of just how played I was.
The party swirls around me, beautiful and terrible, while I stand frozen, watching the death of every hope I’d foolishly allowed myself to harbor.
Just a few more hours.
Just this one last night.
Just one final performance.
Then I never have to see Lee Sterling again.
The weight of manipulation settles around my shoulders like a shawl made of broken promises. Every moment, every touch, every careful consideration tonight takes on new meaning. He wasn’t being attentive because he cared—he was maintaining his investment. Making sure his plan played out until the end.
My silk gloves feel too tight suddenly, too constraining. But I can’t change them, can’t show weakness, can’t let anyone see how completely this revelation has shattered me. Instead, I force myself to stand straighter. To smile at passing guests. To play my part in this elaborate charade.
Katherine slips back down the stairs into the crowd to find another soul to shred. The ballroom suddenly feels too small, too bright, too much. The urge to run is so strong I nearly give in. No. I won’t run or hide. You’re stronger than this. I won’t let them see how deeply this cuts me. Because that’s what they want, isn’t it? To prove I’m unsuitable. Unstable. Unworthy.
Lee returns to my side as if nothing has happened, his hand finding its place at my back like he has any right to touch me. “Sorry that took so long. Emma needed—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out barely a whisper, but he hears it. His hand stills against my spine.
“Salem?”
“Just …” I step away from his touch, maintaining my smile for any watching eyes. “Don’t pretend anymore. Not tonight. Not anymore.”
Something flickers across his face—confusion? Concern? More perfect acting?
“I don’t understand.”
“I saw you.” My voice stays steady through sheer will. “With them. The ones who scared me into accepting your offer. Nice touch, by the way. Very effectively orchestrated.”
His face pales, and I watch as the fear trickles into his gray eyes. “Salem, let me explain—”
“No need. I think I’ve seen all I need to see.” I turn to face him fully, letting him see exactly what he’s done. “I made a deal. I’ll see it through. Just … don’t touch me again. Don’t pretend to care. Don’t act like any of this was ever real.”
The orchestra starts another waltz, the music sweeping through the ballroom like waves trying to drown me. But I won’t drown. Won’t break. Won’t give any of them the satisfaction.
I am not their puppet anymore.
“May I cut in?” Aries appears like smoke, materializing between Lee and me with practiced grace. Without waiting for an answer, he takes my hand, leading me into the dance before I can protest.
“You’re holding up remarkably well,” he says as we join the other couples. “Most people would have run by now.”
“I’m not most people.” My voice comes out stronger than I feel.
His smile is oddly familiar, like a half-remembered dream. “No, you’re not. That’s what makes this all so interesting. The girl who counts tiles and wears gloves, standing her ground at a society party after having her heart broken.”
“You don’t know anything about my heart.”
“Don’t I?” His hand tightens slightly at my waist. “I know about Chelsea. About that night. About why you really started counting things.”