Page 45 of Wicked Salvation
I take a sip of my wine. It doesn’t help.
My mind starts spiralling—and that’s when Frances appears. She takes our plates, and in the tense silence it takes for her to head to the kitchen and return with the main course, I think I’ve gathered my thoughts.
She places the food down in front of us. Ironically, this was the course I was looking forward to the most: braised highland beef cheek in a red wine reduction, with root vegetable purée and black garlic jus.
But I have no appetite.
I thank Frances warmly. Silas’ icy eyes are on me, watching my every move. I take up the knife and fork to slice into the tender beef, but my hands are shaking so much the knife falls out of my grip. It clatters on the gold-rimmed charger, loud as gunshots.
Deep breaths, Eden.
“Eden, love.” His voice is colder than his eyes. “Did. He. Touch. You.”
Tears bead in the corner of my eyes.
“Not the way you’re thinking—we didn’t have sex.”
We didn’t.
He just used his mouth.
That doesn’t count.
I don’t even sound convincing in my own mind.
Silas stands suddenly.
He crosses the space between us so swiftly that I barely have time to register that he’s gripping my shoulder. “Come with me.”
“Silas, I said?—”
“Now.”
He hauls me so forcefully I nearly fall out of my chair while trying to stand. His grip slips to my forearm—it’s too tight—and pulls me through the restaurant.
Into the hall.
Into the bathroom.
Silas shoves me in so hard my foot slips out of my slingback kitten heel. Then he slams the door shut behind us, turning the lock. It’s a beautiful bathroom—stone walls, marble countertops, golden stalls and huge gold-rimmed mirrors.
“Remember what you promised,” I say shakily.
He grins like a maniac, spinning me around so we’re both facing the mirror. He towers over me, his body looming like a predator. He grabs my left hand and holds it up.
“I don’t know. Do you remember what this ring means?”
I swallow thickly.
His hands fall to my waist, yanking me against his hard body, his lips against my ear. “This is your last chance to tell me the truth, Eden.” He holds my gaze in the mirror. “You don’t get to lie to me.” His breath is searing against my cheek. “You went to see him after I proposed to you, didn’t you? And he touched you, didn’t he?”
“It’s not what you think?—”
“You don’t get to lie to me!” he shouts, slamming my body down against the marble countertop. “You’remine, Eden. I don’t know what fucking dreams he’s been selling you—but you belong to me.”
“I’m not a possession to be owned, Silas.”
An empty, hollow laugh echoes in the bathroom. “This rebellious streak… Did he trick you into thinking it would work? That you’d somehow be able to stand up to me if you defied me enough?”
