Page 111 of When Hearts Surrender

“Fuck yes, I’m hungry. Seeing you in that dress, your tits lifting and falling, taunting me, your lips and moans and everything about you,” I swallow, my nostrils flaring as her eyes grow as big as the dinner plates before her, “I’mravenous.”

“Maxwell!” A pink flush creeps up her neck and tinges her ivory skin. She gnaws on her sexy lips. I have her flustered. “Are you taking me on a date just so you can ogle me?”

“I wanted to take you out tonight because I realized I hadn’t spent time alone with you outside the estate since the race and Nellie’s.”

Reaching over the table, I link my hand with hers, relishing the electric zap and her gasp the moment we touch.

This powerful connection—it’s something I can’t explain. We’re two halves of a whole, the atoms in our bodies recognizing each other. As I look at her, watching her smile sweetly at me, the whites of her teeth blinding, I’m hit with an impulse, the same impulse that got me to elope with Sydney all those years ago, but this time, the need is ten times more potent, more desperate.

I want to love her. I want to give the middle finger to my old friend, death again.

But what if? You know your love is a death sentence. You know that.

The thought is a bucket of ice water dousing the fire burning inside me and I think back to how Elias’s investigation on her fall at BSUA didn’t yield anything, how Belle had been complaining about getting dizzy even though the doctors found nothing unusual when they examined her, and uneasiness crawls up my throat.

But even then, there’s a kernel of rebellion inside me. What if Belle’s right and all the accidents were random? What if there isn’t a curse?

She must’ve seen something in my face, because she asks, “You’re worried about something, aren’t you? You thought of it just now.”

Giving her fingers one last squeeze, I let go and focus on the medium rare ribeye in front of me, hoping the food will settle my suddenly frayed nerves.

“I never told you this, but I asked Elias to look into your fall at the shelter.” I tug my tie loose from my neck—it was getting hard to breathe.

“What? Why? It was an accident. Do you owe him any favors? Why didn’t you tell me before?” Belle clearly knows who Elias is, but whodoesn’t? Everyone in the city has heard of him and he has helped her friends before.

“We have a silent agreement and you don’t need to worry about it.”

She shakes her head. “Maxwell, we’re married. You need to tell me these things so we can make these decisions together. This impacts me too. For the thousandth time, it was an accident.”

She shifts in her seat, a frown on her face. “I can’t believe you went behind my back and now you owe him a favor. Who knows what he’s going to ask you to do later on?”

Anything.He can ask me to do anything and it’ll be worth it to make sure she’s safe.

“You think it’s the curse, don’t you?” She looks so crestfallen. I have a feeling she has been hoping the last few weeks between us have changed things. “I slipped and knocked my head. Saw and heard some weird things because I almost had a concussion. It was my fault.”

“But what about your dizzy spells? And didn’t you say you saw a man in a mask outside the window when you first moved in?”

My heart races as I think back to all the little things she complained about in the past—the masked man encounter that I brushed off after a cursory inspection of surveillance tapes, her asking if there were ghosts in the house because she kept hearing moaning and wailing and doors slamming. I grew up in the mansion, so those sounds were normal to me.

All these things seemed innocent when Agnes or Morris told me about them, but now, I’m not so sure.

Then there’s the branch shattering the windows, a branch that came from nowhere since the trees are so far away from the fourth floor. The same omen before the other deaths. Signs I’m choosing to ignore because I want Belle to be right. I want everything to be some twisted self-fulfilling prophecy and perhaps if I don’t think about it, the curse won’t happen.

Cold sweat forms on the back of my neck and my stomach turns. A series of unusual events. If it wasn’t the curse, what could it be?

An anvil sits atop my chest as my lungs fight for oxygen.Why is it so hot in here?Staring at the food in front of me, I watch it swirl, the scent of the semi-raw meat suddenly nauseating.

I’m calm. I’m at peace. I accept myself. I’m calm—

Her sweet scent of lilies hits my nostrils, followed by a soft, warm body wrapping me in a tight embrace.

“It’s okay, Maxwell. We’ll work on this. In time, you’ll see the curse isn’t real. It’s okay. I’m here.” Her soft words and gentle touches calm the turbulent swirl in my mind and I close my eyes, breathing in her fragrance, one that’ll forever remind me of home, and listen to the calm beating of her heart.

Her thriving, healthy, living heart. One I’ll protect if it’s the last thing I do.

She makes room for herself and sits on my lap and uses a napkin to blot the sweat off my forehead and upper lip. “Everything will be okay, Maxwell, you’ll see.”

She smiles, then frowns, as if she remembers something.

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