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“Hey.”I reach for the side of Sylvie’s face, tilting her head back so her gaze meets mine. “You’re not responsible for his dying. Were you there?”

She slowly shakes her head, her big blue eyes full of sadness. Regret. “No. If I had been, maybe I could’ve saved him.”

“What the hell happened?”

Sylvie’s expression turns pained. “It’s really weird.”

I cup her cheek. “Tell me.”

“Earl was into…some kinky shit. He was at his apartment in midtown with this guy, a casual friend of mine I met at a party once. He was a friend of Cliff’s.”

Cliff. The dude I thought she was with, who is also gay. I was so jealous of him the day of Whit’s wedding.

“Anyway, they were together, and Earl put on a nude-colored latex suit that covered him literally from head to toe. They were doing…whatever, and it’s believed that Earl started having a panic attack. Those suits are hot, and they cover you everywhere. I’m sure he felt restricted.”

She’s quiet for a moment and I finally tell her, “Go on.”

“Sorry. So he’s freaking out, and according to the guy he was with, he’s freaking out too. Trying to get the suit off of Earl. But he’s sweating so badly, the guy is having a hard time and eventually—Earl went into cardiac arrest and died.”

“Seriously?”

“Would I lie about that?” She shakes her head, my hand dropping away from her face. “It was…a lot. To protect him, we kept the story quiet. Said he was at the apartment alone and had a heart attack. Everyone believed us. His team of lawyers spoke with the EMTs who were first on scene and I think they even paid them off not to say anything. He was a very prominent businessman. The gossip sites and society pages would’ve had a field day discussing the kinky sex life of Earl Wainwright.”

She’s right. Scandalous headlines would’ve been everywhere, discussing his death in a latex suit. It would’ve turned into an epic shitshow.

“What about his kids?”

“They don’t know,” she admits. “We kept it from them too. You’re the only person I’ve told. Well, besides my mother.”

Probably not the best idea, to give Sylvia Lancaster that kind of information. Knowing her, she’ll use it against Sylvie eventually.

I tug Sylvie close to me, rolling over so she’s on her back and I’m on my side, hovering next to her. God, she’s so young. All I want to do is protect her from all the shit she’s been through. Mostly at the hands of her mother.

What the fuck is wrong with that woman? Why does she continue to put Sylvie through so much? All in the name of loving her?

What a crock of shit.

“I hate what your mother has done to you.” I pull Sylvie in, pressing my mouth to her forehead in the lightest kiss. I feel her melt against me, her soft, naked body brushing against mine and just like that, I want her.

I always want her.

“I’m still here though, right? I’m sure she resents me for it.” The bitterness in Sylvie’s voice is telling.

“She really wants to kill you.” It’s not a question. I just need her to confirm it again.

“Yes.I told you the last time we were together alone, I caught her standing over my bed with a pillow in her hands, Spence. A pillow. She wanted to smother me and end it. End me.” Her voice turns shaky. “What did I ever do to her to make her feel that way toward me? I don’t get it. I don’t get her.”

I slip my fingers beneath her chin to tilt her face up to mine, spotting the tears streaking down her cheeks, which breaks my heart. I hate that she’s crying tears over someone who doesn’t deserve them.

“I will protect you from her if it’s the last thing I do for you,” I vow, my tone fierce. I want Sylvie to realize I mean it, because I do.

“I won’t willingly put myself around her anymore, so you don’t have to worry about that,” she says, trying to smile.

I dip my head, kissing her. Tasting the saltiness of her tears, which only incites me further. “Fuck her. I mean it, Syl. She does something, she even says something to you, looks at you, and I will be the one ending her.”

“But…she’s my mother.”


Tags: Monica Murphy Romance