Page 73 of When Hearts Surrender

She pulls me up from the floor after I finish wiping down the scuff marks and helps me put the table back in place. “They also went through a lot of traumas when their mom died and with the curse and everything.”

Millie gives me a sad smile, like she knows exactly what I’m going through. “We may think the curse is baloney, but they’ve been raised to believe it…for generations. It’ll take time to get through to him, Belle. That is, if you want to.”

My eyes burn and my nose twitches.

I do. I very much want to. I want the gentleman from the races, the blistering kisses we’ve shared before, the late night pastrami and rye.

“Aww, sweetheart.” She pulls me into a hug as an errant tear slips out and I curse myself for crying over the infuriating man who gives me emotional whiplash and makes me feel far too much.

“My offer to kick his ass still stands,” Taylor mutters, tossing her towel on the ground and patting my back.

“We’re here for you whenever you need us. There’s always a guest room for you at Steven’s and my place if you want to take a break,” Grace murmurs.

Swiping my arm over my tears, I dole out a watery smile. “I-I’m fine, really. It’s just…trying for a baby with a man who makes me feel everything is so hard. Harder than I expected.” I swallow and heave out a ragged sigh. “But I knew what I was getting into. He’s keeping his boundaries, and I just need to work on mine.”

“You don’t need to continue the arrangement, Belle. If you need money, I can lend you some, no strings attached. I can also ask my brother to help too—I think I can persuade Emily to invest in McKenzie Atelier. We can fund your fertility treatments and everything,” Millie offers, referring to her billionaire brother, Adrian Scott’s wife, EmilyKingsley, who is a powerhouse businesswoman and a fashionista on top of that.

I shake my head. I don’t want to muddle our friendship with financial matters. Things rarely end well in those situations. And I meant what I told Maxwell in our first meeting at The Menagerie. My parents would’ve arranged a marriage for me to another man if I didn’t marry him.

And even after everything, I still rather it be him.

The man who has given me unforgettable adventures, who has decorated my room in atrovirens and Frida Kahlos. The man who looks at me with reverence in the gallery, the man I catch sneaking Silas treats despite grumbling about the dog ruining everything.

The man who makes my heart flutter in his presence.

Deep down, I wonder if I’m in way over my head. If my traitorous heart can separate matters of the flesh and love.

“I have it handled, girls. Don’t worry about me. Plus, my baby will have good genes. Those Andersons are smartandhot.” I wink, hoping I sound believable and clear my throat. “Anyway, I’m going to run to the basement to grab some dog food for the kennels. They were running low when I checked earlier. I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for their response, I walk past the girls, eager to escape the topic and the turmoil of feelings it elicits inside me.

The swirling thoughts accompany me as I reach the narrow stairs, dimly lit by a flickering florescent light. A fresh wave of dizziness hits me, very similar to how I felt when I saw Duke Silas’s portrait in the gallery, and I grip the railing for support while the spell passes.

I’ve been feeling out of sorts these days. I don’t know if it’s the stress of the situation or a lingering illness I can’t shake. If this keeps up, I’ll need to call my doctor.

After a few seconds, I feel much better and continue down the stairs.

A cloying stench reaches my nostrils and I notice the floors are wet with bits of dead leaves and black sludge sticking to the cement steps.

Darn it, the flood must’ve made its way here too.I hope the food stocked in the basement is still good. If not, I’ll need to make use of Maxwell’s resources to replenish the supply because Lord knows I can’t count on Bob to do that for the poor animals.

My attentions are so temporarily distracted by my thoughts that I don’t notice anything unusual until the door suddenly creaks open behind me.

“Who’s there—ahhh!” I scream as a solid mass knocks into my back and I lose momentum, my boots landing on the wet steps, only to slip and slide.

Everything happens in a blur and I tumble down the stairs, the impact wrenching the air out of my lungs as my body hits the cement.

A blistering pain explodes in my head, my vision darkening at the edges.

Everything hurts.

My ears ring and I taste a bitter, metallic liquid on my tongue.

So much pain.

I see a faint, tall shadow approaching me.

“H-Help me,” I whimper. “P-Please.”

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