I delete the message without replying.
Two minutes later, another arrives.
Now.
I could leave him on read. Eric might get the hint then, or he might actually call me next. Sure, I could refuse to answer, but… damn it.
Panic mingled with perverse curiosity wins out.
I type out a two-letter message while biting down on my lip.
Ok
Eric’s houselooks exactly the same: clean white stone, perfect hedges, and a gate out front that he left open since he would’ve known I couldn’t resist before I sent my text. It’s expensive without trying too hard, a house that whispers old money and even older power. The kind that only Order men from founding families can flaunt.
It’s always belonged to the Wards. The house that Cicely lives in was gifted to her after their Order-arranged wedding. Shekept it when their marriage turned into what it is now, and Eric returned tohisfamily home.
He told me it would be ours.
I park in the circular drive, my racing heart hammering against my ribs. For two years, itwasmine. So why doesn’t it feel like I’ve come home to be back again?
I grab my purse; I don’t want my phone or my keys out of my reach, just in case. Then, checking my lipstick and hair in the rearview mirror one last time—also out of habit—I climb out of the car. A quick brushing down of my skirt and I’m ready to go.
The front door opens before I even get the chance to knock, and there he is.
Eric Ward.
He has a staff, and I expected Jonathon to be the one to let me in. It would’ve given me a few more moments to compose myself before I was brought before Eric. Seeing him cast his icy blue gaze over me, smiling in approval at what he sees, I hate that a part of me preens to know that I’ve passed his inspection.
Of course I did. Eric spent a lot of time and effort turning me into the Annaliese I am today. All it took was one text, one summons, and I was able to slip right back into the same role.
He doesn’t look any different, either. Standing in the doorway, backlit by the warm golden light of his front room, he looks every inch the polished gentleman I was fooled into believing he was. Cream-colored sweater, brown slacks, salt-and-pepper hair perfect as always. His smile is soft. Welcoming.
It’s another lie.
“Please. Come in,” he says.
My legs move on their own, heelsclick-clacking against the hard wood floor as he leads me past the pristine foyer toward the den. In the entire house, it’s the only one I considered to be Eric’s room. It suits him, with the dark leather furniture, the heavy mahogany bookcase, the massive desk where he’d workafter leaving the office, and a noticeable bar cart in one corner stocked with his preferred—and very expensive—whiskey.
I pause in the doorway. Eric sidles around me, hand swiping possessively over my ass as he lingers long enough to breathe me in. I shiver, but he’s already gone. Wearing a pleased smirk, he walks around his desk, taking the seat.
There is no seat for me. For anyone, really. After all, this isEric’s space, and I was rarely invited in here. That he wants to have this discussion here makes my nerves even worse. I move to stand in front of his desk while he’s sitting, but rather than feel as though my height gives me the advantage, it’s more like I’m back in school, facing off against the principal.
“Annaliese.” His tone is too, too familiar. “You’ve kept me waiting.”
I swallow back the shakiness. “I left as soon as I received your text.”
“I think we both know that that’s not what I mean.” He laughs, low and amused, only I’m not buying it. The look in his eyes… “You’ve been sulking, sweetheart. It’s unseemly. This has gone on long enough. Come home.”
“I don’t live here anymore, Eric. I have my own place?—”
He scoffs. “A hovel in the west side of town. Please. You know it doesn’t compare.”
He’s not wrong. It doesn’t compare, but it’s not a hovel. I have a one-bedroom apartment on the third floor of a decent building full of middle class families and bachelors trying to break into the Order’s stranglehold on Harmony Heights. It’s nicer than I could afford without my parents’ help, but it’s mine. That’s the important part. It’smine.
“You broke up with me,” I remind him. I gave him an ultimatum: marry me or lose me forever. He can’t marry me, and that meant he had to end things. Sure, I fool myself into believing that I broke up with him, but I don’t have any powerwhen it comes to Eric Ward. I never have. “I loved you. I wanted to stay. But you? You pushed me away.”
His practiced smile turns brittle. “You’re upset. Understandable.” He leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the top of his desk. “But I’ve decided I’m ready to forgive you.”
