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My heart jumps when he crosses the room and stops beside me. On instinct, I turn to face him and gasp when he reaches for my face with one hand and my waist with the other. He turns me and walks me back, trapping me against the sink. He caresses my face, then leans in until his mouth is a breath away from mine. “You will be one day, Sophie.”
Then he kisses me.
It’s a hard kiss, demanding, hungry, and it sucks the breath right from my lungs. I grab his shoulder with one hand and the edge of the sink with the other. I’m helpless as his tongue slips between my lips and invades my mouth. His hand at my waist slides around to my back. He slides it between me and the sink to cushion me from the possible discomfort as he ravishes my mouth.
When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless, and my heart beats fast. I feel bashful as he looks down at me, then briefly confused when he smirks.
But he’s looking at my breasts, and when he murmurs, “That’s why I like you braless,” I realize my nipples hardened to pebbles while he kissed me.
My cheeks heat, and I shove against his chest. He chuckles but lets me push him away. His hands take their time releasing me, and when he does, he still takes my hand.
I’ve never actually held hands with a guy before him. On the face of it, it seems like such an innocent thing to do, but it sure doesn’t feel that way when he does it.
I don’t know what to expect of breakfast with his family, so I’m a little on edge as we head downstairs.
Silvan leads me to a stately formal dining room with lots of light shining in through the massive windows on the far wall. They have luxurious-looking window treatments in a creamy shade of yellow that matches the room. Between the windows is a painting so large, it fills most of the wall. Overhead is a gorgeous, expensive-looking chandelier. The dining table is long, built more for entertaining than for an intimate meal for a family of three.
It’s a gorgeous room. A fancy table.
And today, it’s set for four.
Silvan’s mother and father are already seated on their side of the table. Two more places are set directly across from them.
“There you are,” his mom says, her voice lyrical and lovely to listen to. Her eyes are warm and her smile is so genuine, you’d really think I’m a guest here and not a captive. “We set places for you two, but I didn’t know if your guest was left-handed or right-handed, so I hope you won’t bump elbows. We can switch you if we need to.”
Silvan glances over at me. “I don’t know that, either, actually.”
“Left.” I clear my throat, feeling his father’s gaze on me and feeling profoundly self-conscious because of the way Silvan has me dressed. The clothes are beautiful, of course, but I hardly look like anyone’s prisoner. “I’m left-handed.”
“Why don’t you sit across from Richard then?” she says, indicating the chair across from Silvan’s father.
That is not where I wanted to sit.
Last night, I got a certain vibe off the man, but he was relaxed, enjoying some peace and quiet with his wife at the end of his day.
This morning, he’s fresh and ready for a new day. The quiet sense of intimidation that rolled off him last night is much louder this morning.
It’s unsettling.
He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him watching me. He might be Silvan’s dad, but he’s a man all the same, so my anxiety begins to spiral like it did the night of the party when a guy looked at me for too long. I want to flee, but there’s no crowd to get lost in.
I’m so anxious and distracted, I gasp when Silvan places a hand on my shoulder. He frowns, and I blush furiously. My face feels so hot, I want to press my hands against it.
“Sorry,” I say on impulse.
Silvan isn’t scattered and nervous like I am. He’s calm and steady as he pulls out my chair for me.
My gaze flickers to Silvan. He’s the devil I know, so I feel safer with him, but if it came down to it, would he defy his own father for me? Things he said when he was being crazy about marrying me slide back to the forefront of my mind—things like his father might take things into his own hands if he considered me a threat to the family wealth.
He doesn’t regard me with any softness or sympathy because his son might be preying upon me. He regards me as if he’s considering whether I’malreadya threat he needs to take care of.
I’m very confused because I thought Silvan’s father was a businessman of some sort, but now the armored car comes to mind, and I’m starting to wonder who the hell I’m sitting across from.
My stomach rocks with nerves. He’s still watching me. I want to throw up and also crawl out of my skin.
Silvan’s rumble pulls me out of my rising panic. “Are you all right?”
“You do look a little warm,” his mother agrees. “Are you warm? I always think it’s a bit drafty in here, but I can have Ilona turn down the heat if you’re too warm.”
