Sentenced to Life

13

Silas never had any doubt that he would be successful because he had been. Everything he touched he multiplied. He was born and raised in success not just with money, but women, murder and anything else he set his mind to.

Naturally, with the nice cool million generously given to him from Emory, he'd had a nice head start. Some wise investments, smart business moves and he'd almost accumulated more wealth than when he was younger.

Not the vast generational wealth from being a count but...close enough. After a year of not seeing Emory, he thought himself ready to face her. On equal footing.

He tapped his fingers on the desk, staring down at the small figures from his penthouse window. A particular form caught his eyes. The curve of her body, the way her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She looked up, and he smiled. His phone rang. He picked it up and grinned, staring at the woman who had her phone to her ear.

"So? You ready yet, Count Silas?" She asked.

He grinned. "To spill my darkest, deepest secrets to you? Of course."

The low timber of his voice threatened to smother her. Emory sniffed looking up at the large building.

"If I come there...what am I gonna find Silas?"

He smiled. "You sure you don't wanna fuck around and find out?"

She scoffed and didn't comment on how much his speech had changed in such a short time. "No....not this time."

He hummed. "A distinguished gentleman with a checkered past, some expensive wine, and a diverse portfolio, in a suit wearing cologne some women have described as magnetic."

Emory narrowed her eyes. "Hm. Some women?"

"A few," he shrugged.
"Hundred?" She raised her brow.

He said nothing.

She chuckled and shook her head. "Alright. Buzz me up."

"You sure," he asked, walking toward the speaker. "I've also been called irresistible. "

"Ha-ha," she mocked facetiously. "I've never had much trouble in that area."

"I dunno," he murmured, clicking the buzzer. "You never seemed to much resist me."

Emory scoffed making him grin, knowing the exact face she was making.

"Look how cocky you've gotten," she complained, "only a year ago you were saying things like: my wish is your command, Emory."

"And it still is, beautiful." He opened the door coming face to face with her. "Whatever you wish."

Emory stood, poised to knock on hand on her phone. She looked up and down, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him, his dark hair swept back, in that three piece fitted—tailored shit, black gloves on his hands.

"Somewhere to go?"

Silas appraised her the same way, his eyes sweeping over her lovely skin, her hair pulled back in a mixture of braids and curls, a simple black dress and high heels.

"Just wanted to look good for you, darling." He extended his hand. "Have you eaten? I'll have them bring something up."

She walked in her ponytail swishing in front of him. Emory was hit with the smell of his cologne, not overpowering just enough to be enticing. She squinted. 

"No thank you. I ate before I came," she set up her camera.

He put his hand on hers, stopping her. "I should've asked you to bring your appetite."

"How did you know I'd be here?" she asked, looking up at him from over her shoulder.

"When a man has been alive for so long, he gets a certain intuition," he grinned, "But before we begin the biopic, let's just talk. Old friends."

Emory raised her brow. "We're not very old friends though, are we?"

"No leeway for you favorite lost cause?" He asked lowly, taking her hand in his. "I am your favorite lost cause aren't I? Now my feelings are fragile, so answer carefully."

Emory grinned as Silas noted her empty ring finger.

"Ha. Your feelings fragile? I doubt you even have any,"

He tapped his heart. "You wound me, gorgeous. Have a seat."

Emory smacked her lips and had a seat. "Your tongue has gotten slicker, Count Silas,"

He sat a drink in her hand.

"Can I borrow a light?" She asked.

He raised his brow. "Now how can you borrow a light? You gonna give it back? To merino only one of us here has an extra hundred years to spare."

Emory scoffed. "So slick."

He grinned, sitting across from her. "Alright. What have you darkened my door with beautiful?"

"I want you to tell me. About that night."

Count Silas sniffed taking a sip of drink. "Ah...that night. Are you sure you want to hear such a perilous night?"

Silas looked up at her full lips and licked his own, sipping his drink.

"Quite literally the only reason I came here."

Silas chuckled. "The only reason? So there I was, whimpering in pain. The fever setting in. I'm not sure which. Great madness took hold of me. I was seeing things that weren't there. In a fit of madness, I looked around and saw monsters."

Silas set his cup down. "And I...killed those monsters, and fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke I realized what had taken place, but the sheriff was at my door, and the only witnesses to my sickness were dead, and so, I was taken in and jailed."

He shrugged. "Not as interesting and malice filled as you thought, hm?"

She looked up. "That's really what happened?"

Silas nodded. "Yes. To my memory."

Emory stood and hugged him. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the softness of her breasts. He wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer.

"You poor thing!" She sighed in his ear, hugging him tightly.

Silas grinned closing his eyes, sighing. "I ache so badly even recalling it, lovely."

"I know you do. I don't know what I expected but this is just too sad,"  Emory sniffled.

"What a kind soul I've found in you, beloved."