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I can’t remember the last time I saw them with that gleam they get when he smiles—when he really, truly smiles and it touches his eyes. He’s beautiful then, and it takes my breath away to see it.
I’m reminded of Esmerelda, his mother, and I soften toward him because Silas Cruz is alone in the world. There’s a part of me that, no matter what has happened or what he’s done, hurts for him at the thought.
“Silas,” I start, wanting to tell him I’d heard about his mother’s passing, wanting to say something kind. But before I can get a word out and, without breaking eye contact, he reaches behind me and takes my hand in his. That fluttering in my belly, the sensation of anxiety or excitement that are interchangeable when it comes to Silas Cruz, is there again. Heat creeps up along my neck and settles in my cheeks as electricity charges through us.
“I see you haven’t come to your senses yet,” he says, and both our gazes move to the rock on my hand. Heturns the ring, touches the diamond. When I look up at him again, he’s watching me from beneath thick, black lashes. “You disappoint me, O.”
“Don’t you mean Barbie?” It’s his hate name for me, one of several. O was a pet name I haven’t heard in years. I try to pull my hand away, but he doesn’t let go. “And besides, everyone disappoints you in the end. Isn’t that right, Silas? No one is good enough for you, are they?”
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say that exactly. But you? There was a time I expected better from you.”
It’s quiet as his gaze searches my face, and I lose myself in the turquoise of his eyes. Is his heart beating as hard as mine? I doubt it.
He’d have to have a heart for it to beat.
Besides, Silas Cruz is a man in control. In the decade I’ve known him, this is the one thing I know to be a fact. He is always in control, and he’s proven that over and over every time I’ve run into him over the last few years. He’s proven that I am nothing but a pawn in his life that he can manipulate and maneuver however he wants for no reason other than his own entertainment.
But despite it all, what I feel when I get around him never changes.
He must see right through me because a string tugs at one corner of his mouth. It’s not quite a smile though.
I remember the last time we saw each other. The morning after that night.
My face burns.
“I can read you like a book, little girl.”
“I’m not?—”
He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear and my words catch in my throat at his touch. That one-sided grin widens. “You’d better get better at hiding your thoughts, given the company you keep,” he says, voice low.
I slap that hand away, but he’s still holding the other one hostage. “Fuck off, Silas.”
He chuckles “Sold the house, I see. Am I congratulating you?”
“Didn’t have much choice and you know it.”
He nods once, that grin gone. I don’t know if I imagine the slight squeeze of his big, warm hand around mine, with its skin calloused and rough. He’s a businessman now, but he always loved working with his hands, building things. Gardening. All of it. I wonder if he still finds the time.
“What are you doing here anyway? How did you get in?” I ask.
“Sly’s security system leaves something to be desired.” He releases my hand, steps away, and I feel the loss of him like I felt the cold coming in through the open door just moments ago. It’s like he takes the warmth with him, this man. “How’s Dad?” he asks, both expression and tone neutral. Silas never liked myfather, but I don’t think he hated him like he hated—hates—Sullivan Fox.
I glance down and turn my mom’s ring, which is set on the ring finger of my right hand. It’s a modest gold band from my dad to my mom on their wedding day. Dad gave it to me on my seventeenth birthday. That was how old she was when they got married.
“I’ll see him soon,” I say, hoping he doesn’t hear what I’m not saying.
Silas’s eyebrows rise. “You haven’t seen him since he went in?”
I set my jaw. Silas Cruz doesn’t know everything. “I guess that’s disappointing to you, too.”
“It is. I’m surprised you’d abandon a father who loved you so much, O. If I recall, that man would walk over hot coals for his baby girl, and you turn your back just like that when shit hits the fan?”
“It’s a little more involved than that.”
“Well, you’re right about that. Just remember, the courts only see a small fragment of the truth.”
“What does that mean?”
