The Wedding of Molly O'Flaherty Read Online Free PDF

are shareholders in van der Sant’s company.”
    There was a kind of white noise in my mind as I tried to process this, a noise like wind and water and wheels on a smooth road. “You invested in his company?”
    Silas nodded.
    “But...how? Why?”
    And now Silas stepped back, the authority and anger gone, replaced by something gentler, more urbane. He was retreating into his shell, a shell of charm and smiles that had kept him safe for years. “It’s a long story,” he hedged, taking off his hat and running the brim through his fingers.
    “Is it a long story that has something to do with me?” I asked, and even I could hear how dangerous my voice had gotten.
    He hesitated.
    “Silas,” I said in a low voice. “Be honest with me.”
    “I’d never be anything but honest with you,” he said. “But I can’t tell you the truth right now.”
    “So I’m right,” I said flatly. “Because it can’t be coincidence that you and Julian have decided to do business with the one company that is about to partner with mine.”
    “We want to help,” Silas pleaded, stepping toward me again, but I dodged him.
    “Don’t you see how terrible that is?” I said, crimson anger filling me, swirling against the inside of my mind like wine in a glass. “Every time somebody tries to help, I start to have hope. And every time that hope is crushed, it’s just a little bit worse. It’s just a little bit harder. And I can’t take it any more—the hope or the failure. I can only handle the certainty, no matter how grim it is.”
    Silas stopped, his eyes closing for a moment. “That was exactly what Julian and I wanted to avoid.” He opened his eyes, and I saw that battle again in their depths, that struggle. There was something more he wasn’t telling me.
    The crimson anger turned black.
    “I am so sick of being treated like I can’t handle anything!” I cried.
    Silas, understandably, looked at a loss. “But you just said you couldn’t handle—”
    “Never mind what I said! Here’s what I want: I want you to treat me as you’ve always treated me—as an equal. And I want you to leave me alone. Stop interfering and stop trying to rescue me. I don’t need either one.”
    “This is not about us trying to rescue you. Jesus fuck , Molly, stop being so goddamned combative for one minute.” Silas paced over to the mantle and back again, his long strides eating up the space in the room. He was so leonine, so masculine and animal all at once—loping and tall and powerful. I bit my lip against the sudden drop in my stomach as he turned and I could see the outline of his semi-hard cock against his trousers. Arguing with me was arousing him, and God, that thought would be enough to warm at least a thousand of the innumerable cold nights that awaited me after my wedding.
    To hide my discomfiture, I lowered myself into the yellow velvet chair by the window. Outside, London settled into an early autumn evening, cool and cloudy, the street already clogged with hansom cabs and horses.
    “We are trying to help because you are our friend. Because we care about you. I know your pride refuses to hear this, but at some point in your life, you will have to accept help when it is freely offered. Help that comes unattached to any sort of economic or emotional exchange, help that just is .”
    “That’s called charity,” I told him sourly.
    “And so what if it is? Are you so willing to hold on to this principle of independence that you won’t even consider something that could be beneficial to you and this company you care so much about? Is your pride worth that much?”
    That wounded my pride—being called prideful. “I’ve sacrificed everything for this company,” I said. “Including my pride. Including my dignity and my self-worth—”
    I broke off without meaning to, my throat suddenly too tight to speak, shame crawling over my skin like a swarm of insects.
    He was over to me in an instant, dropping to his knees in front of