Chapter 11 The Price Of Consent

• OLIVIA'S POV
• I caught a glimpse of Regan as he stepped out of the study, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind him. The golden hue of the garden lanterns cast long shadows across his face. He didn’t see me. Or maybe he did and chose to pretend otherwise. He moved like a man shouldering something unbearable, dragging secrets behind him like shackles. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with a sharp flick of his lighter. He lingered under the terrace, half-hidden by a marble pillar, staring at me as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t wrestle the words into existence.
• I looked away first. I didn’t know what unnerved me more—his silence, or the intensity in his gaze.