Page 57 of The Watcher's Bride

Because if she can feel jealousy, then she can feel something else too. Maybe I can make her mine—not just on paper, not just through obligation, but truly. Still, I tread carefully. She’s thawing. Slowly. One wrong move and she’ll freeze up again. I’ve seen her build her walls back in seconds. I can’t afford that—not now.

I run a hand through my hair and lean back on the couch, sipping slowly.

I’ve thought a lot about telling her the truth. To tell her that I was the one who silently watched her for all those nights. But if the Max reveal was a betrayal in her eyes, what the hell would she do if she knew I was the man behind the mask too? That I was the one who snuck into her room, who cuffed her to the bed and made her come undone under my hands and mouth? That the man she trusted with her darkest fantasies is the same one she now shares a house—and a name—with?

I close my eyes and exhale slowly, remembering the last night I touched her.

Three weeks ago. But I remember it like it was yesterday.

The soft velvet of the blindfold over her eyes. The tremble of her thighs as I teased her, tasted her. The way her body begged for more even when her voice wouldn’t say the words. Her pretty pussy soaked for me, slick and perfect and sweet as sin.

God, I can still taste her. Still hear the way she moaned as she came against my lips. And she wanted it. Needed it. Craved it. She gave herself to that man—completely.

And now… now I sit across from her at breakfast, pretending to be content with polite conversation and the occasional flicker of a smile.

It’s torture.

And yet—I can’t tell her. Not yet.

She’s starting to trust me again, just a little. If I shatter that by revealing the truth, she’ll hate me forever. No matter how much of it was real. No matter how deeply I loved her even then.

So I wait. I give her space. I let her take small steps toward me, and I follow slowly, even though every part of me is begging to close the distance and take what I already know is mine.

Tonight, she’ll be on my arm. Dressed in something that will no doubt make me want to lock the doors and forget the world exists. And if I’m lucky, she’ll let me in—just a little further.

Until then, I wait.

I sip my drink and listen for the creak of the stairs, already half-hard at the thought of what she might be wearing.

And when I hear her footsteps—soft, hesitant—I set my glass down.

Chapter 36

Nora

“Wow! You look breathtaking,” Leo says as I walk down the stairs to meet him a couple of hours later.

For once I don’t try to brush his compliment away. I can tell from the way he’s looking at me that he’s being honest, and quite frankly, I know I look good. The deep floor-length emerald green dress we chose hugs my body, highlighting curves I didn’t even know I had, while the color stands out in perfect contrast with my pale skin and auburn hair. The gold accessories and heels are understated yet classic, and more importantly, despite their height, I can actually walk in the heels.

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself,” I reply with a smile.

In truth, he looks drop-dead smoke show crazy hot in his tuxedo. It’s hard to remember that I’m supposed to hate him, that he was part of my father’s plan and betrayed my trust.

“I have half a mind to take you upstairs and tear that dress off you,” he says with a groan as I near him.

“What happened to this event being too important for us to miss? I thought not attending wasn’t an option?” I reply sweetly, enjoying the power I have over him as I sashay past him toward the door.

He grumbles to himself but doesn’t protest. Perhaps as a way to distract himself from the sexual tension between us, Leospends the car ride helping me get up to speed with the family dynamics and how I ought to behave around his uncle.

“I grew up in this world, Leo, I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry,” I reassure him.

“Chances are this whole evening is some sort of elaborate ruse to set you up in some way, to test your loyalty to your new family,” Leo insists. “Or it could be for me. There’s something I should tell you, that I’ve been wanting to tell you, about why I was there pretending to be your neighbor,” he adds, his gaze glancing toward the dark barrier that separates us from the driver. He briefly pauses to check that the driver can’t hear us before continuing.

“My uncle sent me to spy on you, to check that you were really Quinn’s daughter, and to report back on your suitability to be his wife. I was never meant to get close but the first time I saw you in the library I was addicted. He doesn’t know that we knew each other. If he found out that the real reason I convinced him not to marry you was because I wanted you for myself and I wanted to save you from him, he’d kill us both.”

My breath catches at that admission. Before I can respond, the car pulls up outside a grand-looking casino and the driver walks to the door.

“Promise me you won’t let my uncle know you’d ever seen my face before our wedding, Nora,” Leo insists hurriedly.

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