She didn't want to see Silas Thorne like this:
Elegant, proud, a man blessed by the heavens. He was supposed to be untouchable, yet for her, he had humbled himself.
Joyce Monroe tilted her head, leaned close to his ear, and whispered:
"Silas Thorne, I like you."
Her voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear in the silent suite. Silas Thorne's entire body went rigid. He looked up and stared intently at Joyce Monroe. His blood surged, and spurred on by the alcohol, the excitement made him feel dizzy, as if it wasn't real.
"Wh-what did you say?"
His voice trembled, laced with a quaver of disbelief.
"I said, I like you…"
"Are you just humoring me?" Silas Thorne frowned.
"No, I mean it." Joyce Monroe looked at him. "I'm not forcing myself at all. I really do have feelings for you. Maybe spending the rest of my life with you would actually be a good thing."
Silas Thorne stared at her, the passionate heat surging in his eyes sending her heart into a frantic rhythm.
