Page 14 of The Villains We Make

“When you crashed your SUV into the limousine! Sign it or I won’t do it. I’ll take my chances with Ethan.”

I open my mouth to respond, but my phone rings yet again. It’s Nigella’s ring tone and I know she wouldn’t call again unless it’s an emergency.

“Fuck!” I dig my cell out of my pocket. “What is it that cannot fucking wait?” I bark into the phone.

“There was an attack, Silas. An attack in the prison,” Nigella says.

That takes me a minute. “What?” I glance at Ophelia, move a few steps away so she won’t overhear.

“Horatio Hart. He’s in the hospital. He’ll be okay, but I thought you’d want to know.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll call you back in a minute.” I disconnect, then look at Ophelia. She looks angry and confused, but I don’t think she heard what Nigella just said.

“Fine.” I take the pen from her, lay the sheet against the wall, and sign my name. “It’s fine. I need to go.” I walk to the door.

“That’s it? Just like that, you agree?”

“That’s it.” I open the door, already dialing Nigella. “Just like that, I agree.”

“Good. And to be clear, Silas Cruz,” she starts, something in her tone making me stop. “Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, you’re wrong about me only marrying for love because I don’t love you. I never will.”

5

OPHELIA

Istare at the closed door after Silas leaves. The room feels suddenly chillier, and I hug my arms to myself. The log in the wood-burning stove glows red and I go to it, taking another from the basket and setting it onto the fire. I close the door and stand back to watch as it catches, and I can’t help but think about my house, consumed like this log.

Closing my eyes, I shake my head and force myself to draw a deep breath in. It’s time to face the future and stop trying to make sense of a past that doesn’t make sense.

I walk into the small bathroom and close the door behind me. It’s cooler in here. There doesn’t seem to be central heating. I shudder, sit on the edge of the tub, and turn the tap, not sure how much hot water I’ll get but letting it fill up the tub as I glance at my reflection. I look a wreck. Hell, I am a wreck.

The glasses, though, are kind of nice. Big, like I like them. I know how much the lenses cost with my particular prescription, but as soon as the annoying voice of gratitude to Silas rears its traitorous head, I tell it to shut up. He has enough money to buy them. Still, I am grateful he thought of it.

But if he hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be able to see my way down the aisle, so his motivation is at least a little selfish.

Rummaging through the medicine cabinet, I find a toothbrush still in its packaging as well as toothpaste. I brush my teeth, and by the time I’m finished, the tub is half full and the water pouring from the tap is no longer hot. I switch it off, take off the nightgown and my panties, and slip into the bath. There’s a half-full bottle of shampoo and conditioner. I realize it might be Lourdes’s room, and she’s given it to me as I’ve been recovering.

I wonder why Silas brought me here and didn’t take me elsewhere. Although I guess if there’s a warrant out for his arrest, it makes sense to come somewhere that’s pretty much off grid with impassable roads. But where does he think we’re getting married?

I wash my hair quickly before the water cools, and as the conditioner detangles my curls, I gently lather soap over my body. I’m sore all over, the bottoms of my feet still the worst of it, but it’s not as bad as it was the night I woke up in the hotel room with Ethan.

I wonder where Ethan is now, what he’s doing. I remember what Sly told him about not fucking this up. He did fuck it up, although it wasn’t quite in his control.

I shake my head. I don’t care, not about Ethan or what may happen between him and his father. I think about what I’ve learned about my grandfather, my uncle. I wonder if my grandfather is like Chandler. I’m not sure I want anything to do with him if he is. According to Silas, he’s dying. Is that even true?

What he said about Ethan’s plan, though, that I can’t wrap my brain around. I may not know Ethan the way I thought I did but I know he’s not capable of murder. That’s too far-fetched.

I pull the plug on the drain and stand up, feeling steadier as I towel off. I put the nightgown and panties back on even though I’d love something fresh, but it’s this or naked right now. When I walk back into the bedroom, I see another steaming mug of broth on the nightstand. I drink it all, take two aspirin, then get back into the bed. Even though I’ve slept most of the last week away, I’m exhausted, and I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I must sleep solidly through the night and most of the next day because when I open my eyes again, it’s to the sound of rain pelting the windows. The sky is a dirty gray, and the clock on the nightstand tells me it’s a little after two.

I’m stretching when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” I say, expecting Silas but seeing Lourdes, who is carrying a plate of eggs and fruit and a big steaming mug of coffee. The scent of it all makes my stomach growl embarrassingly loud.

“Good morning. I mean afternoon,” Lourdes says. “You slept a long time. How do you feel?”

“Better. I guess I needed it.” I do feel clearer, my head not as foggy. “Is this your bed, Lourdes? Did I displace you?”

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