He was infatuated—no, obsessed. Her body haunted him, the taste of her lips replaying in his mind at the most inconvenient moments. He craved the sound of her sigh, that breathless little catch that escaped whenever he touched her. It was the way she made him feel alive, reckless, dangerously close to losing his iron grip on control.
Every time he thought about her, he ached. Every time he imagined Sharona, he felt nothing. And yet—Sharona was the logical choice.
Still, logic was what his empire demanded. He needed a wife who would keep his investors interested. More importantly, he needed someone who could live with his sister under the same roof without complaint, someone who wouldn’t see her as a burden. Someone who already understood the delicate patience required.
Sharona fit that bill in every way.
And yet, every time Ivy’s name slid through his thoughts, Winn felt his resolve falter. Could he really live without the fire? Could he really chain himself to cold practicality, when he already knew what it felt like to burn?
He weighed the options back and forth. Every time his heart screamed Ivy, his brain answered with Sharona. His chest ached with the split, the constant tug-of-war between desire and logic. He could still feel Ivy’s taste on his tongue if he closed his eyes. Yet here was Sharona, sitting by his sister’s side, calm, composed, acceptable.
His investors would approve. His family would breathe easier. His sister clearly trusted her.
"Winn, you should go into work. You look bored." Sylvia said suddenly, pulling him out of his spiral. She was reclined in the hospital bed, thin hospital gown tied loosely around her shoulders, her hair a tangled halo against the pillow.
"I don’t want to leave you." Winn countered immediately.
"Sharona is here. I’ll be fine." Sylvia gave him a wry smile.
"No." Winn’s hand reached for hers instinctively. "I’m not leaving."
"Fine," Sylvia huffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Then I need some alone time. And when the hell are they going to discharge me from here? I’m going insane."
"After treatment, they’ll be putting you on a seventy-two-hour psych hold."
"Great. Just great." Sylvia let out a groan, throwing her head back against the pillow.
"It’s just three days, dear," Sharona cut in smoothly. She patted Sylvia’s arm. "I’ll have a big bowl of ice cream waiting at home, and we can have a girls’ night."
The door opened then. Tom entered with a large bouquet of roses. "Hey baby... how’s my lovely doing today?"
"I’m fine, Dad. Can you make them send me home?" She knew Tom liked being asked for favors, liked being the savior. It gave him power.
"Anything you want, love," Tom said, stepping closer and kissing her forehead. The bouquet found its way to the side table.
"She cannot go home. Her treatment isn’t finished."
Tom flicked his fingers dismissively. "They’re just pumping her full of antidepressants, nothing else. You can come home, honey. Will you go with your brother or..."
"I’ll stay with Winn if he will still have me," Sylvia said softly. His sister’s fragility always cut into him.
"Of course, sis," Winn answered immediately.
"But I really recommend you stay and finish your treatment," he added. He wanted her to understand this was about life and death.
"Please... this place is depressing," Sylvia murmured, glancing around. Her gaze lingered on the sterile white walls, so blank they seemed to echo her emptiness. The fluorescent lights above hummed incessantly and the antiseptic smell clung to the back of her throat until nausea coiled in her stomach.
"Do you know what I dream about every night in here? Real coffee. Not that tar they pour in the cafeteria. And a proper bath."
Winn exhaled, dragging a hand through his dark hair, the tension in his body visible even beneath his shirt. His shoulders hunched. "Fine," he conceded at last. He had never been able to say no to his sister.
"Can I stay with her, just until she is a hundred percent?" Sharona leaned closer, her hand brushing Sylvia’s arm.
"Please do," Tom said quickly, seizing the opportunity. His smile was sharp and Winn wanted to break his teeth for it. "Winn is always working, and she is alone most of the time. It will give us all peace of mind."
Sharona turned her gaze to Winn, her dark eyes large and shimmering. She let silence do the work, her lips parted as if waiting for him to protest so she could play the martyr.
Winn paused. His instinct screamed at him that she was getting too close. This was invasion.
At last, he gave a stiff nod. "Fine."
"I’ll go get a cup of coffee," Sharona said. She smoothed her dress over her thighs. Then she stood. Original content can be found at novelꞁire.net
"Fine lady, uhn?" Tom said after a beat, leaning back in his chair. He rested his ankle on his knee.
"Dad, not now..." Winn muttered.
"What? I’m just having a conversation," Tom replied innocently.
"If it’s about marriage, I am not interested," Winn snapped.
"Fine," Tom said, raising his palms in exaggerated surrender. "Fine. No marriage talk." He tilted his head. "But look how she cares for your sister. I mean, come on. Aside from being beautiful, she’s successful, composed. If I were you, I’d lock it down." He leaned forward.
"Really, bro. Both of you look good together," Sylvia added.
I look good with Ivy, he thought but didn’t say.
Ivy didn’t have the motivation to drag herself to Commissioned that Friday. For one, she missed Winn, the way his gaze made her feel seen and undressed all at once.
Second, Linda was making sure her life in House of Kane was unbearable. Every time Ivy walked by downstairs, Linda found a way to whisper just loud enough for others to hear. "College dropout," "slept her way into the job," "pathetic little secretary."
People she had once laughed with now avoided her eyes, their smiles brittle, their conversations hushed when she entered a room. It was isolating.