Page 55 of When Hearts Surrender

Fuck. She named the damn dog Silas.

I can imagine her lips pursing as she enacts her petty revenge by naming the one-eyed terror after me. The dog, who has been a menace, not only bares his teeth whenever I talk to his mistress, but has also beenscratching at the doors, stealing food from the kitchen, much to Mora’s dismay, and wreaking havoc in the mansion.

But he makes her happy. I see it in her smile as she ruffles his fur. I hear it in her voice when she talks to him at night, saying God knows what as he howls in reply.

He also gets to curl up in bed with her, enjoy her sweet kisses, and be the sole object of her affections.

And damn if I’m jealous of a dog.

I guess I deserve it. For being a complete asshole to her for the past month she’s been in residence. I’ve mostly stayed away from her. During the day, I’m sequestered in the study while she’s at work, and in the evenings, I usually hang out at The Orchid with my siblings and friends or spend my time in the studio.

We haven’t consummated the marriage—the whole fucking purpose of this arrangement—to beget heirs. Because every time I think about it, my cock hardens to a point of bursting like a horny teenager who can’t get enough. I imagine whispering dirty words in her ear as I thrust into her wet heat, listen to her moans as I fuck orgasm upon orgasm out of her.

Fuck. There’s no way I’ll be able to control myself with her.

So, despite having the bluest balls in the history of mankind, I’ve stayed far away until I can figure out what to do. But my body is attuned to her, my ears perking up when she speaks, my eyes seeking her out whenever I walk into a room, and I have to remind myself to breathe and look away when she directs one of her smiles at me.

Because I can’t fall for her. To protect her, I have to stay away; I have to make her hate me.

More images of Sydney’s bluish skin, glassy eyes, her stiff body on the sand rise to the forefront of my mind, and a heaviness sits atop my chest.

I have to stay away.So why the fuck did you marry her then, youasshole?

Because the thought of her being with another man has me seeing red.

“Silas, if you don’t behave, Agnes will have my ass and yours. Now, I’m going to scrub out your mess before she sees it,” she whispers.

The dog whines, like he understands his mistake.

Only Belle would be afraid of the housekeeper who worksforher. Only she would go out of her way to make sure she—or in this case, her dog—doesn’t inconvenience others.

Because she’s kind that way. Just like how she was as Anna all those months ago.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Her footsteps slow and pause in front of the closed door of my studio. I hold my breath.Knock on it. Come in.

A few seconds pass by, my ears straining to listen to her movements above the soprano’s voice.

“Let’s not disturb him,” she murmurs, no doubt to Silas, and she walks away.

Disappointment crests inside me and I fight every urge to throw open the door and chase after her, to be in the presence of her radiance and joy.

But I don’t.Ugh.I want to bash my head against the wall.

Knock. Knock.

My heart skips several beats.Did she come back?

“Come in.”

The door opens and the hope bubbling in my chest deflates when I see Morris striding in. Of course it’s not her.Why would she want to spend time with you, asshole?

“Sir, I was wondering if you need anything from me before I head out.” Morris rubs his leg again. I wish he’d retire and enjoy his remaining years instead of working so hard.

“I’m fine, Morris. Thanks for asking,” I reply. “I ordered a bouquet of roses—white ones, her favorite, like you told me before. They should be here for you to take to the cemetery.”

Something flashes in his eyes and he looks away before I can figure out what it is. “Thank you, sir, for remembering. Ruth would’ve loved you if she were here.”

---