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Chapter sixteen
Daphne
“Ihonestlycannotbelieve that—that boorish, overbearing, presumptious... man!”
Chuckling, I shook my head as Penelope and I left the club, my brother having just ruined our night out before it even began.
“I mean, those are some of the most Jane Austin insults I think I’ve ever heard outside a period drama, but I like them just the same.”
Penelope barked out a laugh, her bad mood cracking as I had intended.
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have said anything at all. Stone is your brother, I would never presume to—”
“Oh, please,” I said, waving off her concern. “If anything, it’s because he’s my brother that I know you’re right on the money.” Shaking my head, I looped my arm through hers as we headed down the sidewalk. “The guy has a good heart, but holy smokes does he need direction on how to execute his noble deeds with a little more finesse. I mean, really. A public claiming? Get with the program, Stone.”
Letting out a soft sigh, Penelope turned to look at me, her eyes wide.
“He really was trying to be noble, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah,” I laughed, “but he just sucks at it so bad.”
We talked and laughed more as we walked, our easy friendship such a treat. I had never really had any girlfriends growing up; all the girls in our circle tended to be exactly like my sister, Constance: greedy, selfish, conniving, and manipulative. It was exhausting just trying to keep up with who was hating who on any given day. I knew they all talked about me behind my back, the fact that I never really fit into their preconceived mold of what a ‘society’ girl should be, but these days, I just couldn’t bring myself to care.
Penelope was nothing like those girls, even though she was from the same city I was, more or less. She was honest and genuine, her kind heart showing every time she smiled. I was lucky to have met her, and I secretly hoped that Stone and his bumbling, grouchy ways didn’t scare her away.
As we approached the next club I had planned to take us to, a trendy place just a little off the strip called, appropriately, Sin City, I could see that the line was halfway around the block. Not that we would stand in it, but still, the place would be packed inside. Glancing at Penelope, the look on her face told me everything I needed to know about her desire to head in there and pay exorbitant prices for watered down drinks while watching a crowd of people we didn’t know work their way toward what would likely be a massive hangover.
“You know,” I drawled, aiming for casual, “my feet already hurt in these shoes.” I stomped lightly for effect. “What would you say about skipping the whole Vegas club thing and just grabbing an Uber to head back to the house? I could use an early night.”
Penelope shot me a grateful smile.
“That sounds perfect, Daphne.”
The house was quiet as I said goodnight to Penelope and made my way to my room. Standing in the bathroom, staring at the mirror, I tried to see myself as someone would from the outside. I was small, my short frame having always been a bone of contention between my sister and me, but pretty enough, even without makeup. My hair was long with several shades of brown, not drab, but not bold either. I guessed the most striking thing about me was my eyes; they were a shade of green that you didn’t see very often, so I got lucky there.
But other than that, there wasn’t anything about me that really stood out, nothing that told you who I was on the inside.
Of course, I hadn’t met many people who cared.
When people looked at me, they all saw what they wanted to see: the second daughter of a rich man, failed socialite, and potential trophy wife.
No one ever saw the girl who wanted to fill the world with color, who loved designing and creating beautiful things and sharing them with others. The girl who longed for a friend that would understand that she was more than her family’s name and all the trappings that came with it.
The girl who just wanted to be her own woman.
Deciding I was too restless to actually go to bed, I crept out of my room and down to the kitchen, keeping the lights off and trying to be quiet so I didn’t wake Penelope. That girl had had a rough month, and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse before it got better.
Reaching for the fridge, I gasped when a deep voice spoke in the dark.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Pressing my hand to my chest, I spun around and spotted Silas, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the counter, the only light in the room the soft blue glow of the flame on the gas stove.
“Not really,” I answered, my pulse still racing, but for an entirely different reason. Silas looked incredible, his broad shoulders encased in the tight black button-down shirt he had been wearing earlier. His dark blonde hair was cut short, the little length he allowed on top styled in that messy way guys liked so much.
I tried to keep my ogling to a minimum, instead turning back to the fridge and pulling the door open. “I was just looking for a drink.” I grabbed a bottle of water and held it up, as if to prove my reason for being near him was valid.
“You should try some tea,” Silas said, his head dipping to indicate the kettle he was heating on the stove. “Nothing like a good chamomile to really settle your mind and soothe your soul.”
“You drink tea?” I asked, a bit incredulous. “You seem more like a beer and whiskey kind of guy.”
Silas smiled at me, his eyes dancing. “Yeah, I drink tea, Princess.”
My eyebrows shot up as he turned, searching for the mugs.
Princess.
I couldn’t believe that he remembered. Or that the single word, uttered in that deep voice, was able to affect me so much.
“So,” I started, my voice sounding choked, “are you enjoying working with Stone?”
Lame, Daphne. So lame.
“I am,” he answered, his back to me as he switched off the stove and poured the hot water into the two mugs he had set out on the counter. “Security is something I know well, something I’m—” he cut off, as if he was rethinking his words. “Something I can be good at.”
Before I could reply, we heard footsteps coming down the stairs, neither of us moving when Stone appeared. He walked quickly to the back door, not noticing us standing in the darkened kitchen, then headed out onto the patio. Looking out the window, I could now see Penelope standing at the far end of the property, her long blonde hair shining in the moonlight.
“Come on,” Silas said quietly, picking up both our mugs in one hand. “Let’s give them some privacy.”
I followed, my heart in my throat, as Silas led me up the stairs, pausing outside the door to the room he was currently occupying.
“There’s a couch,” he hushed out, the hand not holding our tea pointing deeper into his room. “But, I guess you know that.” He grinned sheepishly. “It is your house, after all.”
“It’s my father’s house,” I reminded him. “And yes, I know there’s a couch.”
