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Those words made Sylvie’s nose sting with emotion.
Back when she used to storm out after fighting with Devin, Alaric would always drive all over the city to find her, then carry her home on his back.
“What are you throwing a fit about now?” He’d always say, just like that.
She’d cling to his back, breathing in the crisp scent of cedar that clung to him, naively believing that maybe–just maybe he cared about her, too.
Looking back now, she thought to herself.
“No one’s more of a bastard than he is!”
–
He never even liked her, yet he still slept with her.
And after he was done, he’d go back to his study and gaze longingly at Clarisse’s photos.
She couldn’t understand–what made her so much less than Clarisse?
In terms of family, looks, and figure, what did she lack?
Of all the women he could have chosen, why did it have to be Clarisse? Why her, of all people?
“Let go!” Sylvie’s eyes were red as she bit down hard on Alaric’s hand.
He frowned but said nothing, simply started the car.
Alaric drove them back to the villa, hauling her suitcase inside without a
word.
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“Just like before,” he said, unbuttoning his cuffs in that commanding tone of his, “stay as long as you want, until you’re ready to go home.”
Sylvie stood in the foyer, her nails digging into her palm. “I’m only staying for two weeks. After that, I’m gone. I’ll pay you rent–won’t bother you again.”
“Won’t bother me?” Alaric looked up at her slowly, his gaze behind those gold–rimmed glasses unfathomable. “You really think you can do that?”
His words cut straight through her, sharp as a knife. Her heart clenched painfully.
So he’d known all along.
He’d seen her change–from adversary to someone who couldn’t live
without him.
She was hopelessly in love with him.
But what about him? Did he really just keep his first love in his heart and watch her spiral out?
“Clarisse…” Sylvie blurted out, “She’s my stepmother’s daughter. Did you know that?”
Alaric paused in the middle of loosening his tie. “I found out today.”
After a moment of silence, Sylvie couldn’t hold back. “What’s your relationship with her?”
“She was a year below me.” Alaric poured himself a glass of water, taking his time. “We went to the same college and worked together on the student council. There was a car accident–she saved me. She’s had health issues ever since, so she’s been recovering overseas.”
He looked at Sylvie, a warning in his eyes. “I know you have issues with
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Thalia, but this has nothing to do with Clarisse. Don’t take it out on her.”
Every word Sylvie wanted to say stuck in her throat.
now, it just seemed
She’d wanted to ask, “Do you love her?” But now, it just seemed ridiculous.
The way he defended Clarisse at every turn–what was the point in asking?
She turned and headed for the guest room, slamming the door behind her.
That night, for the first time, Alaric didn’t come looking for her.
Sylvie lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.
“Of course–his first love is back. Why does he care about me now?”
The next day, Sylvie deliberately slept until noon, hoping to avoid Alaric.
But when she opened her door, she was surprised to find him still at
home.
Alaric sat on the couch, gold–rimmed glasses perched on his sharp nose, flipping through a finance magazine.
“You’re up?” he asked without looking up.
“Aren’t you going to the office?”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Oh,” Sylvie muttered, grabbing a few pastries from the fridge and heading back toward her room.
But Alaric spoke up suddenly, “Get changed. You’re coming to a party with me.”
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Sylvie wanted to refuse but then thought better of it. Better to get out than be stuck alone with him.
So she changed and went with him.
It wasn’t until they arrived that Sylvie realized–it was Clarisse’s welcome- home party.
She immediately turned to leave, but Clarisse caught her arm with a bright, eager smile. “Sylvie, I’m so glad you came! Please don’t fight with Devin anymore. Ever since you left, he’s been so worried he hasn’t eaten all day.”
Sylvie gave a cold laugh. “So you do know he’s just your stepfather? Whether I run away or fight with him–what does that have to do with you? What, you think you’re the family police?”
She shook off Clarisse’s hand and strode into the private room, catching a glimpse of Clarisse’s eyes welling with tears as she looked plaintively at Alaric.
Alaric shot Sylvie a dark, warning look.
Then he gently ruffled Clarisse’s hair, murmuring something that made her smile through her tears.
Sylvie’s heart twisted painfully. She dropped her gaze and tossed back a glass of champagne.
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