Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“The salmon is excellent, isn’t it, darling?” she asks, though it’s clear I’ve barely touched it. “I had Mrs. Winters prepare it especially since I know it’s your favorite.”
It’s not my favorite. It’s never been my favorite.
The simple fact is I’ve eaten it without complaint at family dinners for so long that the fiction has become fact in Mother’s carefully curated reality.
“It’s delicious.” My response is automatic while I take a deliberate bite to reinforce the lie. “Please thank Mrs. Winters for me.”
Mother smiles, satisfied with my performance of gratitude. “I still can’t believe my little girl is off to college tomorrow. Oakmount won’t know what hit them.”
The chandelier light catches in her diamond earrings as she tilts her head—a practiced gesture suggesting maternal pride while actually emphasizing expensive jewelry. Image is everything in the Hayes household, even during private family dinners.
“I’m looking forward to my classes,” I say, a generic response.
Eight years in this family have taught me the script.
“Of course you are. Though do remember the social aspects are equally important. The connections you make at Oakmount will serve you for a lifetime.”
The sound of the front door opening interrupts her familiar networking lecture. The footsteps in the hallway are confident and distinctly masculine. My heart beats a little faster before I can control the reaction.
“Richard? Is that you?” Mother calls, though we both know my stepfather never shows up to dinner this early. That’s if he does at all.
“No, it’s me,” a voice responds, sending an immediate flush of heat through my body despite my best efforts. “Just stopping by to get details about the charity gala.”
Aries appears in the dining room doorway, and something inside me simultaneously tightens and unfurls.
He looks different somehow—a subtle shift I can’t immediately place. Outside of the fact that he chopped off his shoulder-length locks to a more professional short style.
His posture is more relaxed than his usual rigid control. He’s wearing a dark button-down I don’t recognize, the sleeves rolled to expose forearms marked with a new watch. Of course it’s not the watch I gave him. The knife of his contempt digs a little deeper.
“Aries,” Mother greets him with practiced warmth. “What a lovely surprise. Join us for dinner?”
His eyes scan the room, passing over me with what seems like deliberate casualness before returning to Mother.
“Can’t stay long. Just need the information Father wanted me to collect.”
“He’s in his study, I believe,” Mother replies. “But surely you can spare a moment to say hello to Lilian? It’s her last night before college.”
His gaze shifts to me then, direct and assessing. Wow. He hasn’t made direct eye contact with me in years. The Aries I know always maintains careful distance and keeps his attention averted enough to avoid fully looking at me but not be seen as rude.
This focused observation makes heat rise in my cheeks.
“Hello, Lilian,” he says, voice carrying a slight, unfamiliar edge. “Ready for Oakmount?”
“Yes,” I manage, hating how breathless I sound. Two years of working to extinguish these feelings, and one unexpected appearance shatters all my progress. “Looking forward to it.”
A smile curves his lips—different somehow from his usual controlled expression. More genuine. More dangerous. “I’m sure you’ll thrive there.”
I study him while pretending not to, cataloging the subtle changes four months of absence have created. His shoulders seem broader, and his stance is more confident. The careful composure that always characterized his movements has been replaced with something more...predatory.
His gaze holds mine a beat longer than the distant politeness he’s maintained since that humiliating night when I was eighteen.
As I take note of the changes, it occurs to me that his eyes seem the most changed—they’re obviously the same hazel color but somehow different. More intense. Less guarded. As if something that was always carefully contained has broken free.
“The salmon is excellent,” I offer, desperately searching for something to extend this unexpected moment. “There’s plenty if you’re hungry.”
“Perhaps another time.” His smile doesn’t reach those altered eyes. He glances at my barely touched plate. “Though if you ask me, it doesn’t look like you’re enjoying it much yourself.” The observation startles me. Aries never notices such things or at least never comments on them.
His polite distance has always included a careful lack of personal observations. This direct acknowledgment of my food aversion feels intimate, making my pulse quicken.
“I had a late lunch,” I lie, then wonder why I’m explaining myself at all.
“Hmm.” The sound carries disbelief, another unexpected deviation from his usual careful neutrality. He moves farther into the room, picking up a crystal paperweight from the sideboard, examining it with unusual interest before setting it down in a slightly different position.
“Aries will be at Oakmount often this semester, Lilian,” Mother interjects, missing the strange undercurrent between us. “Working with your stepfather on the new business program. Perhaps you’ll see each other on campus occasionally?”