N I N E

1K 65 15
                                    

Silas





FROM MY OFFICE WINDOW, I WATCH GENEVIEVE HELP THE MAIDS PLANT NEW FLOWERS. It's been two days since the incident at the club and she hasn't spoken to me since, though I know she knows I'm watching; every couple of minutes, she'll look around as if she knows she's being watched but I never allow her to see me. It's relieving to see her out of her room today, keeping herself busy.

Why she decided to help the maids with gardening, I'll never know.

I should have let her explain herself. I should have understood where she was coming from. But, instead, I let my anger speak for me like fucking always. No wonder she's so pissed. I haven't even been seeing her at breakfast, lunch or dinner because she asks that it be brought either to her bedroom or taken to the library where she's started taking interest in the books I've collected.

I fucked up by losing my cool that night. It was never my intention to make her upset or even cry, but I did.

All because I got fucking mad.

I want to apologize but how the hell can a man who never had to apologize suddenly do it, no sweat? Every time I see her passing through a hall, I bite my tongue every time I try to open my mouth because I know my apology will fall on deaf ears.

Or maybe I'm just expecting the worst of her just like everyone else.

Fuck, this is exhausting.

I have been swaddled by a father who never cared.

What she said has been circulating through my mind for the last two days. About me. About her father. About her lavish life, I assumed she was living, meanwhile, she's being kept from the life she actually wants to live.

Have I been treating her like her father does?

When I called him about any orders he had to keep her safe, I assumed he was over-protective. As it turns out, I've been acting like the one man she's been wanting to get away from because I decided to listen to orders from him first was the right call rather than considering what she wanted.

Genevieve waves to the maids, clutching her tiny satchel as she walks to the back of the garden. I make my move. I all but rush down the stairs, ignoring anyone who greets me, and head for the backyard. Once I'm outside, I head straight for the willow tree she's peacefully sitting under and only slow down once I'm close.

How do I know she'll even talk to me?

After the way I treated her, she probably won't. She's been keeping her pledge to ignore my existence.

I swallow my pride and continue forward.

As soon as Genevieve feels my presence closing in, she looks up from her book. Her eyes narrow in distaste at the sight of me before focusing on the pages between her fingers, completely ignoring me as soon as I'm beside her.

"Gem," I greet. I almost cringe from the roughness of my voice.

Nothing.

I sit a few feet away from her, making  sure to respect the distance she wants between us. She thinks I'm an asshole, which I am, but I'm not heartless.

I told her I wasn't hired to be her friend but I want to be. Yeah, maybe she's been a pain in my ass, but I like that she challenges me. Everyone either ignores my anger or fears it but Genevieve does neither. She confronts it and isn't afraid to back down.

"I know we started off on the wrong foot," I tell her even if she isn't listening. "I put my job above your emotions. It wasn't fair to you considering I know what it's like to not be heard by anyone even if you're screaming at them."

Silver LiningsWhere stories live. Discover now