Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
I need to google them when I get home.
Although, I suppose if they are into shady dealings and none of them are in jail, Google probably won’t know about it.
I go upstairs alone, my heart beating a little too hard.
I think about sneaking out.
On the one hand, it feels silly to have stayed the whole weekend just to sneak out and beg someone for a ride home moments before they’re sending a car to pick me up.
On the other, Silvan’s dad scares me, and Silvan has been evasive enough about him to make me think the fear isn’t entirely irrational.
There’s also the scope of Silvan’s entitlements. He’s not just spoiled in the sense that if he wants something, he thinks he can buy it. He also thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to kidnap a reluctant girl he wants to date and threaten to maim and murder any man she likes who isn’t him. He does things like what he did the other night at my professor’s house. He was completely comfortable breaking and entering, like it was no big deal at all.
I may not have met many, but I can’t imagine that being the norm for elitist rich boys.
There are certain aspects to Silvan’s behaviors that are… well, very casually criminal. If he was raised in a family where criminal activity was normalized, that might explain it.
That’s too much to think about.
It’s scary enough that someone with his financial resources has zeroed in on me, but if he has resources like those behind him, too…
My god.
Nope, not going to think about it.
Nope, nope, nope.
I’m just imagining things, that’s all.
I’m sure casual felonies and armored cars are perfectly normal among the elite.
So so normal. Definitely not criminal and scary at all.
I still feel sick when I head back downstairs.
Since I snuck around Silvan’s house checking the place out the night of his party, I know the way to the study, but I pause outside of it, considering sneaking out once more.
My instincts are telling me to sneak out. I have a love-hate relationship with them, but maybe I should listen this time.
Once more, I ignore my screaming instincts and step inside the room.
It’s not because I’m sure my instincts are wrong, but because even if they’re right, I believe Silvan will protect me.
It’s an impressive study, intimate in size but with high walls and a spiral staircase up to the second level which is only there so you can access the tops of the bookshelves. He has so many books. Since we just watched the movie today, it feels a little reminiscent of the one in Beauty and the Beast, but without so much natural lighting. It’s a warmly decorated dark room. Maybe more befitting a vampire version of Beauty and the Beast.
Maybe they’re vampires.
The silly thought makes me smile, but it’s not the first time Silvan’s made me think of them. Back when I was convinced he was creeping in my bedroom while I slept, I was like, Get it together, Sophie. He’s not a lovesick Edward Cullen; he’s a pushy asshole who forced himself on you.
At least I’m smiling when Silvan’s father looks at me.
“Happy to get away?”
“No, I was just thinking about Twilight.”
He frowns. “What?”
Silvan chokes. “It’s a movie, Dad. Or a book. Both. It’s nothing, she was joking.”
“Vampires are always rich because they’ve been around for so long,” I inform him. “I mean, if they haven’t managed to acquire wealth over the course of several lifetimes…”
“We’re not vampires,” Silvan assures me.
I obviously don’t believe in vampires, but I narrow my eyes at him anyway. “That’s just what a vampire would say.”
He smirks and grabs my waist, pulling me against him. “You’re crazy.”
My lips form a pout. “And now I kinda want to watch Twilight.”
Putting a hand on my hip and guiding me toward a red leather chair, he says, “Later. Right now, let’s get this drink and get you out of here.”
“Melanie, fetch Sophie a drink.”
As I take my seat, my gaze flickers to Silvan’s mom on her way over to the alcohol cart.
Something about him specifying the drink she’s getting is for me—paired with my existing paranoia about him—doesn’t sit right with me. “Actually, I’m not thirsty. I’ll hang out while you guys drink, though.”
“You sure?” his dad asks, watching me. “I’ve got the good stuff.”
I shake my head. “Thank you anyway.”
His mom comes back with two glasses and gives one to her husband and one to Silvan, then she sits down on her husband’s lap as if without thought.
He keeps his gaze trained on me as he settles his wife on his lap. I lick my lips, wishing I had that drink, but also glad I turned it down. I think Silvan’s mom is super sweet and unlikely to poison me, but I also think if her not at all sweet husband told her to do something, she’d do it with no questions asked.