Keep Me (Sinful Manor #1)

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

After dinner, the party moves to the bar. We’re all sitting around the living room, and I’m too drunk already. I can tell.

It feels as if Sylvie is a moving target I can’t seem to keep focused on. Every time I turn around, she’s moved. One moment, she’s sitting next to Greg’s wife, whose name I can’t remember, and then when I blink, she’s outside on the veranda, staring out at the infinite darkness over the garden.

I’m sitting on the sofa next to Liam with an empty glass in my hand. He knocks my shoulder.

“That is one hell of a wife, Barclay. How the hell did you manage that?” he slurs.

I laugh and rub my brow. “Fuck if I know,” I reply. I have to keep my answers vague and noncommittal. I’m too fucking drunk to answer anything specific.

“She’s hot as fuck. I bet she’s fire in bed. Tell me all the dirty details, please. I hear American girls are wild.”

I give a chuckle, avoiding the sour taste in my stomach. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You arse,” he replies with a laugh. “I haven’t shagged anyone in months. I miss your parties. I’m fucking desperate. Does she have a sister?”

I smile at the ceiling without answering. Does she?

No. She’s an only child. I think.

Fuck, I’m an arsehole.

The group of us are all scattered in a circle. Angus is across from me, the smartest mate in the crew. He and his wife, Claire, have been married the longest. Next to him is Greg and his wife…Emma? Then there’s Nick and his longtime girlfriend, Theresa, to our right.

We started partying hard here every month a few years back. That’s about the time I stopped leaving my house. Stopped doing a lot of things. As my eyes scan the group, I let myself imagine I could have ended up like them. I could have gotten married, moved to the city, and had a few kids. Lived a normal life. Instead of burying myself in the past.

They seem happy. But then again, none of them had gaping wounds of grief and regret to cure with alcohol and women.

Sylvie walks in from outside. She has her arms wrapped around herself as she shuffles toward me, taking a seat at my side, leaving a foot of space between us.

“Let’s play a drinking game,” Liam announces before going to the bar to retrieve a fresh bottle of wine. He sets it in the middle for us. When he notices Sylvie doesn’t have a glass, he gets one and fills it for her with a wink.

My molars grind, and I don’t understand why I can’t just relax.

“Never have I ever…” he says. A few people around the group give a positive reaction, but I personally hate this game. It somehow only makes me drunker and feel like a piece of shite. Not to mention, if I want to keep this party under control, a drinking game is not the way to do it.

I feel the weight of Liam pouring whisky into my glass, and I force a smile toward him. “Thanks.”

“Killian…why don’t you start?” he says as he drops into a seat next to me.

I let out a groan. Then I glance at the woman to my left. “Never have I ever broken into someone’s house.”

Sylvie gives me a stern glare as she lifts her glass to her lips. The people around us break out in laughter, but no one else takes a drink.

“Your turn,” I say to her as she wipes her lips.

“Never have I ever been so drunk I sliced my hand open without even knowing it.”

I try not to give much of a response. I just lift my hand, revealing the still-healing scab, and take a sip of my whisky.

Sylvie stares at me for a moment, looking not quite proud but not quite apologetic either. The game goes around the circle, most of the questions staying innocent and fun. That is until it comes around to Liam.

“Never have I ever fucked two chicks at once.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Greg teases.

Sylvie’s eyes glance toward my face. This one isn’t too bad. The guys here know me, so it’s not like I have anything to hide. I lift my glass and take a small sip as everyone reacts with laughter and cheers.

When I bring my glass back down, I do my best not to look at Angus’s wife across the room.

“Your turn, Barclay,” Liam says, prodding my shoulder.

Fuck, I’m tired of games. I used to love shite like this, but now it feels targeted and dangerous.

Aren’t we getting too old for this?

“Never have I ever…been cheated on.”

I don’t know why I say that. It’s a risky and strange thing to say in this crowd, considering what happens every time we’re together. But I figure it’s the only one I know I can say, mostly because I’ve never had a real relationship to cheat on. To my surprise, quite a few people drink—including Sylvie.

Something about that irritates me.

Angus doesn’t drink though. I do notice that.

Again, I force myself not to look at his wife, Claire.

When Nick’s girlfriend notices Sylvie drinking, she asks, “I assume it wasn’t Killian.”

Sylvie shakes her head. “No. My stupid ex. Caught him fucking my best friend.”

“Oh shite,” someone replies.

“What did you do?” one of the women asks.

Sylvie sits up proudly. “I threw scalding hot coffee on his back. Gave him second-degree burns.”

The corner of my mouth lifts in a smile.

***

After about three rounds of that game, it becomes glaringly obvious that we are not in our twenties anymore. We’re all smashed. After I get up to use the restroom, I come back to find Liam sitting closer to Sylvie than I was.

He’s laughing, clearly toasted. She’s wearing a forced, hesitant smile that makes me want to scream.

“Sylvie,” I bellow. They both turn to stare at me. “It’s time for bed.”

Her brows pinch inward, clearly surprised at me trying to tell her what to do. But if I drink anymore, I’ll end up passed out on the floor again, and I can’t leave her down here with Liam in this state.

It takes her a moment of my harsh gaze before she realizes that she can’t stay down here without me. As she stands, I take her arm in mine. She glares up at me with frustration.

“We’re off to bed,” I tell our friends. “Everyone sleep well, and if you need anything, the staff will be here bright and early.”

The crowd says good night as I practically drag Sylvie out of the room and toward the staircase.

“Let go of me,” she whispers as we reach the stairs.

I let go, although I don’t want to.

When we reach the second floor, she goes left, so I grab her arm again. “You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

She rears back and stares at me with ghastly shock. “The fuck I am,” she replies in a hasty whisper.

I drag her closer until my mouth is near hers. “I’m not leaving you alone. Liam is too drunk, and he has eyes for you.”

“I don’t care,” she replies with disgust. “I’ll lock my door.”

“We’re supposed to be married, Sylvie. What will they think if they see you sleeping in a separate room?”

I don’t know why I’m so desperate about this. I truly am worried about Liam. I’ve known the man a long time, and as wild as things get at our parties, I’ve never known him to be the kind to hurt or violate someone. But with the way he was talking about her tonight, I can’t stand the thought of her and him together.

Sylvie lets out a sigh. “You’re not going to give this up, are you?”

I shake my head.

“Fine.” She jerks her arm out of my grasp and moves toward her room. When I grab her again, she looks back at me in shock. “I have to get some pajamas. I’m not sleeping near you naked.”

The thought of her naked in my bed has my cock twitching again. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen the least bit of action, and it has me thinking irrationally.

Sure, Sylvie is infuriating and stubborn. I may hate her personality, but her beauty remains, and my cock doesn’t care much about personality.

She emerges from her room a few moments later with pajamas and a toothbrush under her arm. She closes her door behind her before following me to my room.

Once we’re both inside, I close the door and lock it. Sylvie turns back to see my face after the lock clicks into place. Something about being in a locked room together makes her uncomfortable—I can tell.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I unlock it.

She closes herself in the bathroom, and I hear water running and the toilet flushing as I sit on the side of the bed. I’ve sobered up in the past hour, but I still feel numb and reckless. Like I could say anything on my mind. I could do anything.

Normally when I’m drunk, I’m alone or with friends. Being with someone like Sylvie when I’m wasted is dangerous. It makes me want to spill my secrets, and that’s a very, very bad idea.

The door opens, and she comes out in a pair of dark-blue satin pajamas. Her wild strawberry-blond curls are piled on top of her head and wrapped in a satin ribbon. She’s wiped every ounce of makeup from her skin, leaving her cheeks spotted with freckles and her lips bare of color. I’d like to kiss them again to feel what they’d be like without the makeup covering them. Her eyes are so much rounder and brighter without the black lines and shading.

I’m staring for too long. Quickly, I stand up and rush into the bathroom. In there, I douse my face with cold water, brush my teeth, and empty my bladder. I don’t own a pair of pajamas, so my only choice is to sleep in my undergarments and white T-shirt.

When I come out of the bathroom, Sylvie is already curled up on her side, facing away from the middle. I laugh to myself at the row of pillows she’s placed between us. As if pillows could protect her if I wanted to touch her. Which I don’t.

I climb into bed and click off the lamp on the nightstand. I roll away from her, and the room is bathed in silence. It’s so quiet, I can hear her breathe. It’s choppy and shallow. And I can feel a slight quiver on the bed.

My stomach aches with dread.

“Are you really so afraid of me?” I whisper.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she replies defiantly. I let out a sigh before replying.

“I can feel you trembling.”

Silence engulfs us again, and in the silence is the harrowing truth staring at me like a mirror held up to my face. It tells me that I’m too harsh. Too cruel. Truly a brutish monster, as she’s pointed out repeatedly in the past month.

“I’m not,” she argues before punching her pillow and settling back down into the mattress.

We don’t say another word, but even as her breathing settles into a sleeping cadence, I stay awake. I can still feel her shaking.