Today was the day of the rehearsal dinner, and the air in the estate was thick with a different kind of tension. Chloe and I had spent the afternoon going through the final arrangements, but if I was being honest, it was all Chloe, not me. She was the one who had everything under her absolute control. The plans, the flowers, the seating charts-it was all managed by her and the high-priced coordinator she had hired. I was just there as "decoration," a silent support system for a world I didn't understood.

I didn't understand why the hand-blown wine glasses had to be imported from Norway, or why it was a crisis that her third backup dress from a Paris boutique was a shade off from "eggshell." But I sat there anyway, nodding and showing support, commenting on how lovely everything looked or how gorgeous the centerpieces were every time she pointed at something.

By the time the evening rolled around, I was exhausted. I was currently getting ready in my room. Just like the previous party, Chloe had sent another dress for this one-a deep emerald silk that felt like water against my skin.

God bless her heart; she even offered to have her private maids come and help me get dressed, but I declined. I already felt awful enough being a "charity case" in this house; I didn't need to be waited on like a princess.

I managed to make myself look presentable. I took my clutch, checked my reflection one last time, and stepped out into the hallway, bracing myself to interact with a room full of high-class, pompous snobs. I didn't get five steps before I stopped dead in my tracks.

Eric was standing by the top of the grand staircase, looking like a god in a tailored charcoal suit. My stomach did a somersault. What did he want now? Was he going to try to confront me about the "cutie pie" phone call from last night?

Panic flared in my chest. Maybe I could hide in my room for a bit. If I just stayed behind the door, maybe he would get bored and leave. I didn't have the energy for our usual cat-and-mouse fight right now. I began to slowly, gently back away, my hand reaching for the doorknob.

Crrrk.

The sound of my heel catching on the floorboard echoed like a gunshot in the quiet hall. Fuck my heels. Why the fuck did I choose to wear these tonight? Eric turned, his thoughts interrupted as he acknowledged my presence. I hated when he did that-the way he stared at me like I was worth all the gold and silver in the world. It made my skin feel raw, as if he could see right through the emerald silk and see the terrified girl underneath.

Deciding to break the tension before I suffocated, I cleared my throat. "Good evening, Mr. Kingston."

"Evening, Autumn." He didn't move. He just watched me, his eyes tracking the way my pulse jumped in my neck. It was unsettling.

"Dinner is about to start," I said, trying to nudge him toward the stairs. But Eric refused to take the hint. He seemed perfectly content to see how long he could make me squirm.

"Let's go," he finally said, turning to lead the way.

When we reached the dining hall, the long table was already filled with the Kingston and Hawthorne elite. Eric walked to the head of the table and pulled out the chair directly to his right.

"Sit," he commanded.

I froze. All eyes in the room snapped to me. The silence was deafening. I felt a flush of heat crawl up my face, embarrassed to be the sudden subject of everyone's scrutiny. Why did this man keep doing this? He was marking me in front of his entire family.

"Mr. Kingston, I believe I have a seat arranged further down," I whispered, desperate to create distance. "This place is reserved for family members."

"Yes, Uncle. Tummy already has a place arranged for her," Chloe said, her voice hopeful as she tried to help me escape the nightmare.

"Eric, she is just a... well, as Chloe said, a guest," a woman sitting across from us spoke up. She looked to be in her late forties, radiant and sharp-featured. She was a polished, older version of Chloe, so I presumed this was Eleanor, Chloe's mother. I finally understood why Chloe had never let us meet during our university days. The woman bled arrogance. "Why would you seat a no-name at the family table?"

Eric didn't even look at her. He kept his hand on the back of my chair, his voice steady and cold. "I was the one who told Chloe to invite her. And I am the one who reserved this seat for her. If anyone has a complaint about where she sits, they can deal with me directly."

He dismissed their protests with a finality that shut down the room. We sat, and for a while, dinner went smoothly, if you could call a room full of people glaring at you "smooth." But then, I felt it. Under the table, Eric's palm landed on my thigh.

My breath hitched. My heart was hammered. I expected him to do something crazy, something to shame me, but he didn't. He just gently caressed the silk of my dress, his thumb tracing small circles as he calmly instructed the servers to place more food in front of me, as if he were simply taking care of a cherished guest.

"Eric, dearest little brother," Eleanor continued, her voice dripping with fake sweetness that felt like venom. "Any lead on finding that 'ghost' you've been chasing for five years? Or have you finally decided to settle for whatever is closest at hand?"

The words were a jagged jab. From what I remembered, Eleanor had always been salty that Eric was the successor to the Kingston empire and not her, despite her being the firstborn. She never missed a chance to subtly humiliate him.

Eleanor wasn't finished, though. She kept prodding, her voice rising as she talked about the "sanctity of the family bloodline."

Eric set down his utensils and fixed her with a bored, lethal gaze. He lifted his wine glass, took a slow sip, and set it back down. "Eleanor, my dearest sister. My private matters are none of your concern."

He used the same fake endearment she had, mocking her. "But since we are airing out private matters in front of the help, how is your husband? And more importantly, how is his girlfriend? I heard through the grapevines she recently had another child a couple of months ago. An heir, I presume?"

The table went silent. Eleanor's face turned a violent shade of red, and her husband paled, looking like he wanted to vanish into the floorboards. Eric didn't stop. He twirled his wine glass, his eyes cold. "I wonder whose assets that child will inherit? Because I sure as hell know it won't be mine."

He had completely humiliated both of them in one breath. Then, with a cold smile that didn't reach his eyes, he looked around the table. "Cheers up, everyone. Today is about our little Chloe, not family drama."

I felt a strange mix of fear and relief. I knew then that if a day ever came where Fin was bullied by these people, he would have his father's wicked tongue and absolute power as backup. But that thought only made the secret in my chest feel heavier.

After the fiasco at the rehearsal dinner, I retreated to my room as fast as my legs could carry me. I sat on the edge of the bed, replaying the scenario over and over. The problems of the rich weren't that different from the poor, really-cheating, resentment, and greed-it was just wrapped in more expensive packaging.

I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt Eric's hand on my thigh or heard Eleanor's sharp voice. The house was enormous, but at night, the quietness it exuded was scary. I needed to move. I threw on a silk robe over my nightgown, the chilling air of the hallway making me shiver as I stepped out.

I decided not to visit the balcony where I'd encountered him the night before. Instead, I wandered down to the lower floors, looking for something to distract my mind. I found myself standing before a set of massive double doors. Pushing them open, I was greeted by a magnificent sight. Shelves upon shelves of books rose toward the ceiling, looking exactly like those magical libraries from the movies.

I began browsing through the collection, the scent of old paper and leather calming my nerves. I found a classic novel I liked and took it to an empty reading nook near the back. I just wanted one hour of peace.

"What are you doing?"

I jumped, nearly dropping the book. I turned to see the one person I had been trying to avoid. Eric.

"Mr. Kingston. Good evening," I said, scrambling to stand up. "I thought the library would be vacant. I just wanted to read for a bit. Excuse me, I'll be taking my leave."

"Carry on," he said, dismissing my apology with a wave of his hand. "Don't let me bother you."

He sat in a leather chair across the room, but the sudden awareness of him was overwhelming. He was here, in a room with me, the door closed. The air felt charged with a tension that was almost physical.

"What book is that?" he asked suddenly.

I told him the title, and for a few minutes, we actually had a normal conversation about literature. I could see he was trying to bridge the gap, trying to talk to me like we weren't two people with a from shattered past. I didn't want to reply, but it was better than him getting into my air space again.

"You always did like reading," he said, dropping a glass of scotch onto the side table. "You probably read half the books in my home office while we were together."

The mention of our past made my heart stutter. "Reading sharpens the mind," I said, trying to keep it neutral.

"Why did you leave, Autumn?" he asked, his voice low. "Why did you run?"

"I promised myself not to be the 'other woman,' Eric," I said, finally using his name. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stand up. He moved slowly, walking toward me until he stepped into the light of my reading lamp.

"I think I should leave. It's getting late," I said, gathering my things and trying to stand.

But Eric was faster. He pressed me back against the reading table, his body a solid wall of heat. "You didn't even give me a chance to choose, did you?" he whispered, his face inches from mine. "You decided to make those selfish decisions all by yourself. You decided for both of us."

"Mr. Kingston, it's all in the past. We are different people now," I argued, my voice trembling.

"Well, I haven't forgotten you. And I sure as hell know you haven't forgotten me," he said, his hand sliding to my lower back, pulling me flush against him.

"Please... somebody could walk in," I whispered, even as my body began to melt against his.

"Why are you still calling me that?" he growled, his lips brushing against my shoulder. "Call me by the name you used when I was ball-deep inside of you."

I gasped as he kissed my shoulder, his voice thick with a raw, primal hunger. "God, you still smell so fucking nice. I wonder if you still feel the same as you did before."

He trailed kisses down my neck, his hands loosening the belt of my robe. My head fell back, a low moan escaping me that I couldn't suppress. He kissed the skin near my breast, whispering that I still tasted the same. I was weak. I was falling.

Then, the library door swung open.

I Separated from him instantly, my face burning with shame. I felt like a teenager caught doing something forbidden. I prayed it was just a maid, but Lady Luck was finished with me for the night. Standing in the doorway was Alexander Hawthorne.

"Pardon me," Hawthorne said, his voice oily. "I thought the library would be empty."

He didn't look embarrassed. In fact, he looked intrigued. His eyes raked over me, and I felt a sudden chill. I realized my robe had been pulled back, exposing my bare shoulder and the lace strap of my nightgown where Eric had loosened it.

I pulled the silk shut, my hands shaking. I had had enough of this night. Without a word to either of them, I walked out of the library, leaving the two powerful men behind. As I hurried back to the Blue Suite, I had to face the bitter truth: I was still weak for Eric. I couldn't resist him, and that made me the most dangerous person in my son's life.

The sun was high over the Kingston estate, but I was currently in my room avoiding human interactions at all costs. It felt cowardly, like a rabbit hiding in its burrow while the wolf circled outside, but it was the only way to avoid running into Eric. The Blue Suite, which was supposed to be a sanctuary, now felt like a prison cell made of silk and gold leaf.

My mind was still reeling from what had happened last night in the library. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel the heat of Eric's body pressing me against that cold reading table, his breath hitching against my neck. The thought of what could have happened if Alexander Hawthorne hadn't interrupted us was a loop playing in my mind, terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Would we have had sex there and then? I knew the answer, and it made my skin flush with a heat that had nothing to do with the morning sun. Eric wouldn't have wasted a moment to claim me right there among the bookshelves. He had always been a man who took what he wanted, and last night, he wanted me with a ferocity that hadn't faded over five years. My stomach twisted as I realized that if I hadn't bolted the second Hawthorne opened that door, Eric likely would have waited for him to leave and then continued exactly where he left off.

The worst part wasn't that I was embarrassed about almost sleeping with him. It was the crushing realization of how weak I still was. After five years of building a life, of raising a son, of telling myself I was over him-one touch from Eric Kingston and I was ready to let it all happen. I would have let him take me, and I would have been super glad for the touch.

Because of this internal chaos, I had already declined Chloe's earlier request to go out for a pre-wedding spa day. I had cited a light stomachache, keeping my voice faint over the intercom. It was a pathetic lie, but it was better than telling her the truth: "Hey Chloe, I can't go out with you today. I almost fucked your uncle on your library table last night and I'm too embarrassed to look anyone in the eye."

Ring-Ring-Ring.

The sharp sound of my cellphone cut through the quiet room, making me jump. Who could be calling me? I scrambled for the device on the nightstand, hoping it wasn't Chloe calling to check on my "stomachache." Looking at the caller ID, my heart skipped a beat for a different reason. It was Sarah.

"What's up, Sarah?" I said, answering immediately. My voice was tight. "Is everything alright? Is Fin okay?"

"Ma'am," Sarah's voice came through, and it was panicky. The background noise sounded like a busy street, but her tone made my blood run cold.

"Sarah, what's going on? Talk to me," I asked, my voice etched with a sudden, sharp worry.

"Ma'am... I think we are being followed," she whispered urgently.

My heart didn't just race; it felt like it stopped entirely. "Wait! What? What do you mean you're being followed? Are you sure?"

"We went to buy some breakfast across the street from the hotel," she said, her voice shaking. "There's a black SUV that's been trailing us for three blocks. Every time I turn, they turn. A couple of men in suits... they aren't even trying to hide it anymore."

Fear, cold and jagged, tore through my body. My mind went to a thousand dark places. Was it Eleanor? Was it a rival of the Kingstons? Or was it Eric's security team, finally tracking down the secret I'd been hiding? Nothing would stop me from protecting my son. Not these walls, and certainly not the man who owned them.

"Sarah, get to the nearest crowded place. Go into a mall or a large hotel and stay in the lobby. Do not go back to the hotel yet. I'm coming to you," I commanded, already kicking off my slippers and grabbing my sneakers.

I moved with a frantic energy, throwing on simple clothing-a pair of jeans and a hoodie that allowed me to move fast. I grabbed my bag and whatever change I had left on me for a cab. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely zip my purse.

I bolted out of the suite and down the back staircase, avoiding the main hall. I reached the tall, wrought-iron gates of the estate, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. But as I reached for the pedestrian gate, two large men stepped into my path.

*******

"What do you mean I can't leave?" I shouted at the guards. I had been standing outside for the past couple of minutes, trying to reason with them, but they stood like stone pillars.

"Sorry, ma'am. Mr. Kingston gave us strict instructions not to let you leave the premises without his express permission," one of the guards answered, his voice devoid of emotion.

I felt like I was going to explode. Arrogance! The sheer, unadulterated gall of this man! "I am not a prisoner! My child's life is in danger! Let me out of these gates right now!"

They didn't budge. I realized then that I wasn't going to get past them with words. I turned back toward the main house, my eyes burning with tears of rage. I was going to find Eric. Who did he think he was? Thinking he could keep me here as a hostage while my son was being hunted in the city?

If he wanted a confrontation, he was about to get one he would never forget.