Page 67 of The Sound of Seduction
Felix snorted. “It’s high enough.” Then, swiftly and unceremoniously, he pulled her back through the window, wrenching her balance loose before she had the presence of mind to protest. Her feet scraped along the wall, slipping in her stockings as Felix’s arms locked around her, one beneath each of her arms. Without ceremony, he lifted her like he had when she was a little girl, planting her firmly on her bed.
Her heart pounded as she steadied herself, blinking up at Felix as he stood over her, panting just slightly but with the faintest trace of a frown between his brows.
“You almost fell,” he said, the words so soft they held more weight than any of the shouting from below.
“I didn’t,” she corrected with a stubborn little spark. But even as she said it, her voice wavered, and she winced. Wendy looked at his face, his eyes warm despite their sternness, and she felt something unexpected—a pang she hadn’t recognized in a long time. She was like that little girl again, the one who believed Felix could fix nearly any scrape.
“You fell, though, didn’t you? The other kind of falling, I mean.” His voice shifted, quieter now, the sharp edges softening. Felix crouched before her, his dark eyes searching hers as he took her hands in his much larger, steadier ones. His grip was light, but unwavering, as though to shield her from anything that might try to break her further.
Wendy’s throat tightened. A knot formed slowly, climbing upward until her lips trembled and her vision blurred at the edges. “Very much,” she admitted, the words unspooling faster than her mind had time to stop them. She sniffed and blinked a tear away stubbornly.
Felix exhaled and looked down for a brief moment, his head shaking just slightly. “You’re in love with the prince,” he saidmatter-of-factly. It wasn’t a question. He lifted her hands a little, folding them together carefully between his palms as though he could somehow cradle her heart there along with them.
Wendy’s lips parted to protest, but she knew that whatever she said she wouldn’t believe herself. Instead of replying, she gazed at his face. He knew—healwaysknew—long before she did. It must be the prerogative of a man who once loved with body and soul, as he usually said, and then lost. And for all his frowning and lecturing, Felix was still here, holding her steady. His lost love was a cautionary tale, and Wendy knew in that moment that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let Stan go.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Footsteps pounded againstthe floorboards in the hallway, each stomp sending a jolt through Wendy’s chest. Nick’s voice, sharp as a razor and rising with purpose, grew louder. She clutched Felix’s hands reflexively.
Felix didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look at the door. Instead, his eyes held hers like a lifeline. He gave her fingers a firm squeeze. “Whatever comes through that door,” he said, his voice low but brimming with sincerity, “know this—I’m here for you. Always. Right by your side.”
Those words pierced something in her. Wendy blinked, but it was useless; the first tear slid down her cheek as more threatened to follow. Felix reached up, brushing the trail away with his thumb with the gentleness of someone who had seen her grow from scraped knees to heartbreak.
“Listen to me, Wendy.” He shifted closer, his broad shoulders framing her, shielding her from some unseen storm. “If you’re truly in love—if this is the kind that only comes once in a life—you fight for it. Do you hear me? Fight for it with everything you have. Because if you don’t…” His voice wavered just slightly, heavy with his own unspoken memories. “If you don’t, the regret will be something you’ll carry forever like me.”
The weight of his words hit her like a crashing wave. He understood that sort of thing. He had loved and lost, and he never quite recovered.
The knot in her throat tightened, and Wendy had to bite her lip to stop the sob clawing its way up. Fight for it. Was she brave enough for that?
The footsteps grew louder—closer—until she saw the unmistakable grip of a hand rounding the banister outside. Nick. Wendy’s heart climbed up to her throat.
But Felix didn’t falter. He gave her hands one more heartfelt squeeze before standing, his frame towering over her. “Love, Wendy,” he said, his voice a little softer now, “when it comes, it’s yours. It’s between a man and a woman, not society, countries, or anyone else who tries to meddle like List. Nobody else has the right to take it away from you. Don’t forget that.”
The door flew open further, crashing against the wall with enough force to rattle the glass in the windows. Nick came first, stepping through like a thunderstorm in human form, his brows furrowed, and his lips set tight enough to crack stone. Alfie and Andre followed seconds after, their faces split between bewilderment and something bordering on amusement. And Stan—Wendy’s heart pitched at the sight of him. He lingered in the back as though that might somehow save him, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides, a prince momentarily dethroned in the wake of Nick’s fury.
Nick’s eyes locked on Wendy immediately, flicking briefly to Felix with what could only be called thinly veiled disdain. “Gwendolyn Folsham,” he said, the words as sharp as a blade, “what do you callthis?”
Wendy sucked in a breath, scrambling for something to say, but her entire body had gone traitorously still. Beside her, Felix gave the faintest shake of his head, a quiet warning not to panic.
“I’ll tell you what it is,” Felix said smoothly, his voice calm but crisp enough to cut through the tension. “It’s a moment that calls for love and understanding, not scorn.”
Nick crossed his arms, his gaze narrowing on Felix in that frightening way only big brothers could manage. “And you’re the authority on that, are you?”
Felix smiled faintly, crossing his own arms as though Nick wasn’t a tempest in human form.
“I’m the authority on her. I always have been.” Wendy’s pulse jumped. Nick’s protectiveness could be suffocating—but it was love, unmistakable and fierce.
Felix’s tone shifted then, quieter but firm enough to hold Nick in place. “And I can tell you this—it’s not your anger she needs right now. It’s your ear. Your patience. Because whatever’s in her heart…” He glanced briefly at Wendy, then at Stan, and back to Wendy, his expression softening into something almost tender. “It’s real. That much I can tell.”
He was doing it again.
The room hung quiet for an agonizing beat, the only sound the faint whistle of wind through the slightly open window. Wendy blinked up at Felix, her heart swelling, her throat tightening as guilt and love and warmth tangled into one chaotic storm inside her chest. He had always been her anchor, her fiercest protector since that day Nick came home crying—the day their parents had died in the accident. Felix had been there, the only one who could hold her still when the world felt like it might crack wide open and swallow her into an abyss—and in that moment, she was infinitely grateful for him.
And now again.
Nick moved first, his weight shifting with slow deliberation as he stared at Wendy. “Is that true?” he asked, his tone a shade softer than before, though the question still brooked no nonsense.
Wendy opened her mouth to answer, but the words didn’t come at first. Her eyes flicked to Stan in the back, who looked caught somewhere between terror and adoration. She sucked ina deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and summoned every ounce of Felix’s words that still echoed within her chest.
