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“I’m going to erase you, Mr. Blackwood,” she says, voice strained by the puckering of her lips, courtesy of her still-squished cheeks. “I’ll never dream of you again after that, and I hate that it makes me sad. Thank you for being my dance partner. Now that I get to dance with real fellows, I wonder if you’ll still be the handsomest man I’ve met.”
“I won’t,” I say because I too can deliver honesty. “By the end of the night, I daresay you’ll find me rather hideous.” She lifts her face from her hands, and her lips stretch into one of the brightest smiles I’ve seen her wear. “Impossible.”
Before I discovered the truth of her identity, I cherished my dreams about her. When we aren’t fighting—stones, even when we are—she’s undoubtedly beautiful. Strong. Fierce. A prize for any man. Yet Monty is treating her like an inconvenience. A pawn on a game board. She deserves so much better than this asshole.
His eyes meet mine. “You’re perfect, what does it matter if you’re slender?”
“It was a nice sound,” he says, back facing me. I blink a few times. “What was?” “Your laughter.” He glances at me over his shoulder. The light from the windows catches on his lenses and obscures his eyes. “I hope after all of this is done, you can do that more.”
“You don’t have to do anything to earn their love. You are enough exactly as you are.”
“You’re safe, Briony.” “How do you know?” “Because,” he says, “I will never let you go.”
“I meant it, Briony,” he whispers against my mouth. “When I said you were perfect, I meant it. Whether we’re fighting or fucking, stones, you’re perfect. You’re everything. Exactly as you are. I love—” My heart leaps at that word. “I love everything about you,” he says, softly, slowly. “I love the way you argue. The way you laugh. I even love the way you hate me.” “I don’t hate you,” I whisper. “And I love that.”
“I came to rescue you.” “I already saved myself, you idiot.”
