Page 58 of Knot Happening Again

"Ophelia?"

As I approach, her head turns, those piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, she looks confused, her brow furrowing as she tries to make sense of me. Then she looks shocked, her eyes widening in recognition.

And finally, fury.

Her face contorts with rage, eyes flashing dangerously.

"You havenoright to be here," she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. Even angry, it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.

I hold up my hands in a placating gesture, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. "Ophelia, please," I say, my voice barely audible over the pounding music. "Just give me five minutes."

"No," she snaps, turning away from me. Her hair whips around, the scent of her shampoo hitting me like a physical force. "Leave. Now."

I open my mouth to argue, to beg if I have to, but before I can speak, a mountain of a man appears at Ophelia's side. The bouncer, I realize. He's easily six and a half feet tall, with biceps the size of a tree trunk. He eyes me suspiciously, one hand resting on Ophelia's shoulder protectively.

"Is there a problem here?" he asks, his tone making it clear he's ready to throw me out on my ass.

I could take him.

But then she’dreallybe fucking pissed.

Ophelia tenses, her eyes darting between me and the bouncer. I can see the wheels turning in her head, weighing her options. After what feels like an eternity, she mutters, "Five minutes. Outside on the balcony. Then you leave."

"Thank you."

The bouncer’s eyes narrow and he looks to Ophelia again for confirmation. When she nods, he steps aside, but his eyes never leave me. The message is clear.

One wrong move, and I'm out.

We make our way to the balcony, weaving through the throng of bodies. The cool night air hits me as we step outside, a welcome respite from the stuffy interior of the bar. The balcony overlooks the city, neon signs and streetlights creating a tapestry of color below us.

Ophelia leans against the railing, her back to me. The moonlight casts a soft glow on her skin, making her look ethereal, otherworldly. Her hair shimmers in the dim light, and I find myself mesmerized by the way it moves in the gentle breeze. I want to reach out and touch it, to see if it's as soft as I remember.

I know it would be.

I force myself to stay still, to keep my distance. Instead, I drink in the sight of her, trying to imprint this image on my memory. I might never see her again after tonight, and I want toremember every detail. The curve of her spine, the delicate line of her neck, the way her dress hugs her hips.

And I can't blame her if she never wants to see me again. I'm lucky she didn't kick me in the balls the moment she saw me. The thought almost makes me smile, despite the gravity of the situation.

Ophelia turns to face me, her expression guarded.

"What do you want, Leon?" she asks in a flat tone.

I swallow hard, suddenly at a loss for words, and realize I've just been standing there staring at her. All the speeches I rehearsed on the way here desert me, leaving me floundering.

"I know you have every right to hate me," I begin, the words feeling inadequate even as I say them. "I just... I needed to see you."

She lets out a bitter laugh, the sound like broken glass. "Please," she scoffs. "You haven't given a shit about where I am for the last seven years. Why should you care now?"

Her words sting, but I can't deny the truth in them. "That's not true," I say, taking a step closer. I can smell her scent more strongly now, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to close the distance between us. "I looked for you. Every day, for so many years. It was like you disappeared."

"Yes, well, that's what happens when good girls from high society families turn up half-marked," she says, her voice dripping with venom.

I flinch at her words, the confirmation of what my private investigator suspected hitting me hard. Her family essentially erased all traces of her existence, casting her out like she was nothing.

The thought makes my blood boil.

Not just at her family, but at myself.

---