Chapter 6

After the fiasco at the rehearsal dinner, I retreated to my room as fast as my legs could carry me. I sat on the edge of the bed, replaying the scenario over and over. The problems of the rich weren't that different from the poor, really—cheating, resentment, and greed—it was just wrapped in more expensive packaging.

I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt Eric’s hand on my thigh or heard Eleanor’s sharp voice. The house was enormous, but at night, the quietness it exuded was scary. I needed to move. I threw on a silk robe over my nightgown, the chilling air of the hallway making me shiver as I stepped out.

I decided not to visit the balcony where I’d encountered him the night before. Instead, I wandered down to the lower floors, looking for something to distract my mind. I found myself standing before a set of massive double doors. Pushing them open, I was greeted by a magnificent sight. Shelves upon shelves of books rose toward the ceiling, looking exactly like those magical libraries from the movies.

I began browsing through the collection, the scent of old paper and leather calming my nerves. I found a classic novel I liked and took it to an empty reading nook near the back. I just wanted one hour of peace.

“What are you doing?”

I jumped, nearly dropping the book. I turned to see the one person I had been trying to avoid. Eric.

“Mr. Kingston. Good evening,” I said, scrambling to stand up. “I thought the library would be vacant. I just wanted to read for a bit. Excuse me, I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Carry on,” he said, dismissing my apology with a wave of his hand. “Don’t let me bother you.”

He sat in a leather chair across the room, but the sudden awareness of him was overwhelming. He was here, in a room with me, the door closed. The air felt charged with a tension that was almost physical.

“What book is that?” he asked suddenly.

I told him the title, and for a few minutes, we actually had a normal conversation about literature. I could see he was trying to bridge the gap, trying to talk to me like we weren't two people with a from shattered past. I didn't want to reply, but it was better than him getting into my air space again.

“You always did like reading,” he said, dropping a glass of scotch onto the side table. “You probably read half the books in my home office while we were together.”

The mention of our past made my heart stutter. “Reading sharpens the mind,” I said, trying to keep it neutral.

“Why did you leave, Autumn?” he asked, his voice low. “Why did you run?”

“I promised myself not to be the ‘other woman,’ Eric,” I said, finally using his name. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stand up. He moved slowly, walking toward me until he stepped into the light of my reading lamp.

“I think I should leave. It’s getting late,” I said, gathering my things and trying to stand.

But Eric was faster. He pressed me back against the reading table, his body a solid wall of heat. “You didn't even give me a chance to choose, did you?” he whispered, his face inches from mine. “You decided to make those selfish decisions all by yourself. You decided for both of us.”

“Mr. Kingston, it’s all in the past. We are different people now,” I argued, my voice trembling.

“Well, I haven't forgotten you. And I sure as hell know you haven't forgotten me,” he said, his hand sliding to my lower back, pulling me flush against him.

“Please... somebody could walk in,” I whispered, even as my body began to melt against his.

“Why are you still calling me that?” he growled, his lips brushing against my shoulder. “Call me by the name you used when I was ball-deep inside of you.”

I gasped as he kissed my shoulder, his voice thick with a raw, primal hunger. “God, you still smell so fucking nice. I wonder if you still feel the same as you did before.”

He trailed kisses down my neck, his hands loosening the belt of my robe. My head fell back, a low moan escaping me that I couldn't suppress. He kissed the skin near my breast, whispering that I still tasted the same. I was weak. I was falling.

Then, the library door swung open.

I Separated from him instantly, my face burning with shame. I felt like a teenager caught doing something forbidden. I prayed it was just a maid, but Lady Luck was finished with me for the night. Standing in the doorway was Alexander Hawthorne.

“Pardon me,” Hawthorne said, his voice oily. “I thought the library would be empty.”

He didn't look embarrassed. In fact, he looked intrigued. His eyes raked over me, and I felt a sudden chill. I realized my robe had been pulled back, exposing my bare shoulder and the lace strap of my nightgown where Eric had loosened it.

I pulled the silk shut, my hands shaking. I had had enough of this night. Without a word to either of them, I walked out of the library, leaving the two powerful men behind. As I hurried back to the Blue Suite, I had to face the bitter truth: I was still weak for Eric. I couldn't resist him, and that made me the most dangerous person in my son's life.