chapter 23: lines blurred
437 Words
The estate was quiet after midnight, though quiet here never meant silence. Old houses breathed in their own way—floorboards creaking, wind brushing against tall windows, the faint hum of something alive in the walls.
Des was restless. He hadn’t been able to shake Franklyn’s stiff posture at dinner or Eliana’s too-bright laughter when Daniel told yet another story. Something about the evening had hummed with unspoken things, and Des, more than most, could smell secrets in the air.
He poured himself another drink in the library, the amber liquid catching the lamplight, when a soft knock broke the stillness.
Ava slipped inside, barefoot, her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She carried the same ease she’d shown at the piano earlier, but there was a sharper glint in her eyes now.
“Can’t sleep?” she asked lightly.
Des smirked, swirling his glass. “Sleep’s overrated.”
She wandered closer, brushing her fingers along the spines of old books before letting her gaze rest on him. “You stirred them tonight.”
“Who?”
“Eliana. Franklyn. Even Daniel—though he’s too busy laughing at himself to notice.” Her lips tugged into a faint smile. “You enjoy poking at people.”
Des leaned back in the chair, studying her. “I like peeling back masks. People are more interesting underneath.”
Ava tilted her head, then perched on the edge of the desk, bare feet swinging slightly. The lamplight softened her face, but her words cut clean through.
> “And what about me? What mask do you think I wear?”
The air shifted. Des’s grin faltered, not because he lacked an answer, but because he saw more in her eyes than he expected. Mischief, curiosity, and something darker—something that mirrored the very hunger he usually kept buried.
“Careful,” he murmured, standing now, closing the space between them. “You don’t want me answering that.”
“Why not?” she whispered.
The house seemed to hold its breath. It wasn’t the kind of tension that belonged between cousins, and both of them knew it. That was what made it dangerous.
Ava slid off the desk but didn’t leave. Instead, she leaned close enough for her voice to brush against him.
> “Maybe I do want you to.”
Then she slipped out, leaving Des standing in the quiet library, drink forgotten, pulse racing harder than he cared to admit.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. But the line between them had already blurred, and neither of them truly wanted it redrawn.
- Writer
