Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 74

Then she whimpers something that sounds an awful lot like my name and the entire world stops.

Holy Mother of God.

This is it. I'm dead. Done.

If she's dreaming about me…

Of course, she could be dreaming about anything, but the way her voice sounded—well, I've heard her sound this way once before.

Six years ago.

I force myself to play like I'm as dead as I feel while she sleeps on beside me, every inch of me screaming to give in to a terrible mistake.

There's no chance I'm falling back asleep before my alarm goes off.

And I can't fathom how I'll survive three more nights of this sleepless tease, silently self-destructing next to the only woman I can't have.

SALEM

My head hasn't stopped spinning since we arrived at Zion Peak.

Everything about this place is dialed up to eleven and I haven't decided yet if that means I'm dreaming. The top of my arm might be

bruised from how many times I've pinched it.

But that's only half of it.

The other half, that's entirely down to sleeping with Patton Rory but not actually sleeping with him.

"I can't tell you how excited I am to meet you," a man in a beige suit says with a grin too wide for his face. He takes my hand and kisses it like we're in some period drama. "Can't remember Pat ever bringing a lady around before."

Yeah, like it's any secret why.

I glance at Patton and the intent look in his eye. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he's jealous.

Just looking at him feels dangerous considering how we woke up this morning.

Correction: how I woke up this morning—curled around him like a little monkey hugging a tree. He didn't know I was awake, of course, but being that close felt so good I couldn't help just lying there in the blissful confusion, somewhere between sleep and a very conscious what-is- happening panic.

My face whips away.

Yeah, looking at Patton right now is a bad idea.

I force my attention back to the stranger in front of me. He smells like pungent cigars and money.

They give back satisfied laughter.

They don't know it's a real miracle I'm pulling this off in the face of people so manicured and high profile they make Delly Rory look like a slob. A few of the Vegas developers alone here can buy off entire countries.

It makes me appreciate how real Delly seems. She keeps up a beautiful home and isn't frantically running from one plastic surgery appointment to the next, trying to cheat her mortality like everyone else here.

Wealth is a strange thing.

Sometimes when people work overtime to hide their flaws, it just reveals deeper ones—the kind that aren't fixed.

Patton drags me away for introductions with several other people, mostly the important power couples. They're a minority in the sea of older men.

Most of the guys come alone, and even the ones who wear wedding bands try to flirt like they don't.

I try to take it in stride, smiling and talking about The Cardinal. I laugh along with their lame jokes. Sometimes, Patton intervenes to help us escape—usually when the men start watching me like I'm tonight's dinner.

"That's enough, Grayson. I won't have you stealing her from under me," he says to a man in his mid-thirties who looks chiseled enough to cut rock.

Grayson looks at me with a grey-eyed sparkle that could be his namesake. "Isn't that for the lady to decide?"

"She has terrible taste. That's why she's with me," Patton jokes, and I laugh. There's an expression in his eyes I can't decipher, and it makes my stomach clench.