People who dig their own graves really do have no one to blame but themselves.
How many times did Salome think she could corner Edith with sharp words and not expect a comeback? Did she ever stop to consider the consequences of provoking someone who could actually fight back?
Edith simply arched an eyebrow, choosing silence over snark. She turned away and followed Beckett out to the garage.
Beckett set the painting carefully in the back seat, then hurried around to open the passenger door for Edith–ever the gentleman, at least in his own mind. He even reached in, ready to buckle her seatbelt for her, as if she were some delicate damsel.
Edith stopped him with a look. “I can manage, thanks.”
Not giving him a chance to protest, she slid in and fastened her seatbelt herself.
The moment Beckett drove past the Vance estate gates, he could barely contain himself. “Edith, do you really think I’m a good guy?”
Edith was suddenly grateful she hadn’t eaten dinner–if she had, she might have lost it right then and there. The more she thought about it, the less satisfied she felt. Sure, she’d managed to put Salome in her place, but now she had to endure Beckett’s cloying attention as a result.
Steeling herself, she gave the only answer that would keep things civil. “Yes, you’re a very good man.”
A pleased smile bloomed on Beckett’s face. He started making small talk, glancing at her as if hoping for more praise.
“Edith, you really helped Pioneer Prime out of a tight spot this time. I owe you a proper thank you. Let me take you out to dinner–just name the time.”
Edith declined politely. “Mr. Vance, given our current relationship, I don’t
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think it’s appropriate for us to be seen having dinner together. People might get the wrong idea.”
Beckett leaned in, still undeterred. “But what if our relationship changes? Would it be appropriate then?”
For a split second, Edith was sure he was about to blurt out some grand confession. She had zero interest in getting dragged into his drama.
Thinking quickly, she found an excuse he couldn’t argue with. “Mr. Vance, the deal with Hawksley Group is still just a verbal agreement, right? The contract hasn’t been signed yet. If people start gossiping about us, it might jeopardize the Pioneer Prime project. That’s just not worth the risk.”
Beckett gave her a look that was both admiring and grateful. “You always think things through, Edith. Not like Salome–she’s so caught up in her own feelings, like a child sometimes.”
His words were laced with frustration toward Salome.
Edith couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, “You’re the one who made your bed…”
Beckett didn’t catch it. “Sorry? What did you say, Edith? I didn’t hear you.”
She forced a smile and shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just tired–I think I’ll rest my eyes for a bit.”
She leaned her head back, shutting her eyes, signaling the end of the
conversation.
Once upon a time, she’d thought Beckett was the picture of perfection. Now, he seemed to embody every flaw she’d ever noticed in a man.
Men always talked about their “one true love” and their “everyday choice“–but in the end, the one they picked was always the safe, ordinary option. The one left behind was elevated to some kind of untouchable ideal, simply because she wasn’t chosen.
Edith drifted in and out of a light doze as Beckett drove. By the time the car pulled up in front of the Sumner house, she was still feigning sleep.
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Beckett didn’t wake her. Instead, he glanced around, then reached into the center console and pulled out an unmarked bottle of perfume. He sprayed it gently toward Edith’s face.
A strange, warm fragrance filled the car, making the air thick and hazy. Edith’s eyes snapped open, only to find her vision swimming. Everything blurred and doubled, the scent clinging to her nose.
She could sense Beckett leaning closer from the driver’s seat, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make out the face hovering in
front of her.
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Chapter 84
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.