Chapter 0077

“Fay,” Kent says, clenching his mouth closed after he utters my name, apparently needing a minute to

rein in his temper. That little muscle of frustration flickers in his cheek, making my little smile grow.

“You’re not to come down to the basement. I was clear about this.”

I give him a fake little pout, seeing how far I can push it. “But it’s so interesting down here,” I say,

turning my attention back to the wedding album. “For instance,” I say, my voice light, “I had no idea

you’d consent to get married in just a linen shirt – no suit coat even – very bohemian of you –“

Kent takes two steps forward and snatches the photo album out of my hand, glaring at me. Then, he

glances down at it, as if surprised.

We’re both silent for a moment while he stares at the photo album. “I haven’t looked at this in…

years…” he says quietly, surprised into a moment of reverence.

I consider him, glad to have a moment to study his tall, muscular form while he’s not glaring at me. His

face is lined with years of worry – perhaps more worry than most men his age. He carries a lot, I know,

but…well, I wonder if he carries more than he needs to.

For instance, did he really need to come down here to yell at me for looking through photo albums?

What harm, really, was I doing?

And what joy does Kent really have to balance out all of the worry, the constant need for control, that

consumes his time? The worry and need for control that, indeed, results in his panic attacks?

My eyes flick back to the photo album, wondering if there is perhaps an answer there.

“Did you love her?”

I blush when I hear myself ask it. Again, my mouth has run away with me – speaking my thoughts

before I consider whether it’s wise.

Kent raises his eyes suddenly, that glare focused on me again. He doesn’t answer my question, just

tosses the album back onto the shelf as if it doesn’t matter to him. But I saw his face a moment ago – I

know he’s performing a nonchalance he doesn’t feel.

I lean back into the chair, still studying him, feeling as if I’ve just figured out a little piece of the Kent

puzzle. I smile a little again, pleased.

Which, of course, ticks him off.

“I’m serious, Fay,” Kent says, his voice low and serious. “There are rules in this house, and they’re in

place for a reason.” He folds his arms and glares down at me. “If you do not obey them, you will be

punished –“

“What,” I say, narrowing my eyes into a glare of my own, my own temper a little riled at this renewed

threat. “What, Kent. If I disobey, what are you going to do, chain me to the table in your little torture

chamber? Again?” I roll my eyes. “We already did that this week.”

Kent opens his mouth to say something – scold me, probably – but I just sigh and press my hands

against the arms of the chair, pushing myself up. “Fine,” I say, looking at him with exhaustion on my

face. “I’ll go upstairs.”

I walk past him towards the door but he stops me, calling my name. “Fay,” he says, half turning to look

at me.

I stop in the doorway and wait.

“There are rules in this house. I will not have them broken.” Kent holds my gaze steadily. “You can play

your little game of defiance all you like, but ultimately?” He stares at me, cold. “I will win. Every time.”

A little thrill builds in the bottom of my stomach as I think of the possibility of those challenges, of

pushing him, trying him – pushing myself, at that. I’m so interested in this new Fay that I’m seeing

develop within me as a result of our interactions.

Part of me wants to get to know her more. But the other part? The true Fay, who I’ve been my entire

life? She just wants to live in peace.