The limousine smelled like leather, polish and old money.
I sat stiffly at the edge of the plush leather seats, my hands placed gently on my lap like they belonged to someone else.
The events of the past few minutes kept on playing in my mind, and the more I relived them, the more I realized I had absolutely no idea why Sylas had acted that way.
Outside the car, the courthouse and the reporters had all disappeared behind the tinted glass, but one thing that didn't fade though, was the sound. The sounds of the camera shutters and the screams, all of it was there, but they were all overshadowed by one sound — the sound of Sylas' lips smacking on mine.
I shifted, finally gathering enough strength to turn to him.
“You kissed me?” I asked, “Why?”
Sylas didn’t look surprised, if anything,
