Outside His Shadow

Chapter 17: The Calculated Tear

​The library was dim, with a single desk lamp where Michael sat reviewing some documents. The rest of the villa was settling into a restless quiet. I had gone upstairs to change, leaving him to his work, but I wasn't the only one who knew his habits.

​Sloane didn't knock. She slipped through the heavy doors, the silk of her robe whispering against the floorboards. She didn't stay by the door; she walked straight to the desk, leaning over the edge so the light caught the calculated disarray of her hair.

​"You're working too hard, Michael," she murmured, her voice a low, practiced hum. "Julian is already asleep. You don't have to impress anyone tonight."

​Michael didn't look up immediately. He finished marking a line on the paper before leaning back, his eyes tired. "The deal doesn't sleep, Sloane. What are you doing up?

​"I couldn't sleep," she said, moving around the desk. She reached out, her fingers ghosting over his shoulder, a touch that was familiar—too familiar. "I kept thinking about today. About the way you looked at her when she got back from town and at the table during dinner. You’re playing a part, Michael, and it’s exhausting to watch."

​Michael shifted, pulling his shoulder away from her touch. "I’m not playing a part. Olivia means a lot to me."

​Sloane let out a sharp, short laugh. She moved closer, invading his space until she was standing between his knees. "Then what about me? She’s a ticking time bomb. Michael, she cornered me in town today. She didn't just talk; she threatened me. She said if I didn't get out of this house, she’d make sure I lost everything. She actually grabbed my arm—look."

​She pulled back the sleeve of her robe, showing him a faint, reddened mark on her skin. It was a bruise she’d likely given herself, but in the dim light, it looked like evidence.

​"She’s losing it," Sloane whispered, leaning down until her face was inches from his. "She knows you don't look at her the way you used to. She knows that when you close your eyes, you aren't thinking about her. Why are you punishing yourself by keeping her here? You could have someone who understands the pressure you're under. Someone who can take care of all your needs."

She swept the documents aside and sat right in front of him, untying her robe in one fluid motion. She let the gown fall from her shoulders, baring her plump breasts completely in the dim light. She didn't wait for him to react; she reached up with both hands and squeezed them, her eyes locked on his, practically daring him to finish what she’d started.

​When he didn't move—when that dead, uninterested look stayed in his eyes—she didn't stop. She leaned in until her lips were ghosting against his jaw, her hand sliding up his chest in a desperate, blatant play to take back everything she’d lost since we arrived.

​Michael went still. For a heartbeat, he didn't move. Then, he reached up and took her wrist, his grip firm but cold. He pulled her hand away and stood up, creating a sudden, sharp distance between them.

​"Enough, Sloane," he said, his voice flat. "I brought you here because you’re good at your job and because Julian trusts you. Don't mistake my past indulgence for a current invitation. Olivia is my partner. If there was a confrontation in town, I’ll handle it with her. But don't ever put your hands on me like that again."

​Sloane’s face contorted, the mask of the victim slipping to reveal a jagged, ugly humiliation. "You're choosing her? After everything? She’s going to ruin you, Michael. She’s already starting."

​"Go to bed, Sloane," Michael said, turning back to his desk and picking up his pen. He didn't look at her again.

​Sloane stood there for a second, her chest heaving, before she turned and stormed out of the room. She didn't see me standing in the shadows of the hallway.

​She had told him I hit her. She had tried to touch him. And even though he had pushed her away, the lie was already out there, festering.

​I waited until I heard her door slam at the end of the hall before I made my way back to our suite. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door, waiting for the sound of his footsteps. I knew he was coming. And I knew that tonight, the "peace" we’ve enjoyed was finally going to shatter.