Year Five: The Perfect Goodbye Plan novel Chapter 68

She pulled herself out of Kent’s arms and looked up, her voice soft but direct. “Mr. Parsons, how did you know about the nickname Via?”

The man leaned back against the car seat, head tipped slightly to the side, eyes closed tight. His thick lashes cast shadows across his face, and the elegant line of his nose only made his features more striking.

Silvia had never seen Kent look like this before.

Gone was the usual sharpness he wore like armor. Instead, something gentle had smoothed out his expression.

He looked… almost familiar.

Silvia reached out, her long, pale fingers lightly tracing his brow, then drifting down, sketching the contours of his face with a featherlight touch.

The farther her hand traveled, the stronger the sense of déjà vu grew.

In her memory, there was a little boy who shared Kent’s features…

“Via, behave.”

Kent’s voice was a low rumble, as if her touch tickled him. He caught her hand in his, holding it tightly.

Silvia’s heart gave a startled lurch.

She slipped her hand free and busied herself with buckling his seatbelt before pulling out onto the road.

She still had no idea where Kent lived. If she brought him back to Opal Ridge Retreat, the family would gossip for weeks. After a moment’s thought, she settled on the safest option: booking a hotel room.

She found the nearest five-star hotel, parked the car, and waved over a valet to help her get Kent up to the room.

When the hangover remedy finally arrived, Silvia glanced at the man sprawled across the bed. His usually severe face was flushed with the telltale pink of drunkenness.

She couldn’t help but lean closer, just watching him, lost in thought.

Knock, knock.

The sudden sound jolted Silvia back to reality.

She realized what she’d been doing and pressed her lips together, chiding herself.

Really, get a grip. You’re a grown woman, not a lovesick teenager.

After collecting herself, Silvia took the soup and, bit by bit, coaxed Kent to drink. When a little spilled, she carefully dabbed the corner of his mouth with a tissue.

By the time the bowl was empty, a sheen of sweat had broken out on Silvia’s forehead from the effort.

At least the flush had faded a little from Kent’s face. That was enough to satisfy her.

She was about to head to the bathroom to wash her face, but the moment she turned, a strong hand clamped around her wrist.

With a gentle tug, Kent pulled her down.

The world spun for a second, leaving Silvia dizzy.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and shining. “Mr. Parsons, you’re awake. That’s good.”

They were so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, his face filling her vision.

A fresh flush crept across Silvia’s forehead.

She shifted, trying to sit up, but Kent’s voice stopped her—a deep, hoarse murmur. “Don’t move.”

Meeting his gaze—so dark and fathomless she could drown in it—Silvia instantly went still.

A moment later, Kent lifted her hands, gently guiding them above her head.

He leaned down, slow and deliberate, and pressed his lips to hers.

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