Pulling Strings - Theodore Nott

26. Ruin

Theodore's POV

He refused to lower his head. No matter how much his grandfather's eyes were boring holes into his skull, he was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing him defeated. Not this time.

It didn't matter that ten minutes had passed since Selwyn left the study, his grandfather had not dared to say a word and Theodore —in spite of his show of bravery at not lowering his gaze— was a bit afraid to speak first.

He had to give it to her, she had played him like a fiddle. And the thing that angered him most of all, it was that it had not been such an elaborate plan. No. It had only used his own weakness against him. He would even dare to think that she had come up with it on the spot.

And once again, it was his fault. If he hadn't spoken more than he should, last time, this would've never happened. Ophelia would've never dared to pull a stunt like this on him before he —stupidly— admitted to being attracted to her. He should've known.

He practically had given her power over him and he had been too blind to see it. Too angry to notice it.

Still, he should've seen it coming. It was suspicious from the moment she offered to take the blame, but he had been proud, he had felt like everything was falling perfectly in place and for once, he wouldn't have to face any consequences. Dumb, idiotic, Theodore.

His grandfather straightened up on his velvet armchair and crossed his hands over the desk. Was he ready to start shouting at him?

That was another thing he didn't see coming. The way that his grandfather had so easily sided with Selwyn. Of course, being the host, he couldn't possibly regard the girl as a liar, not if he wasn't looking for problems with her uncle, but—

Shit. Theodore thought. Would Selwyn go as far as telling her uncle about what happened? Lying, more like it. At this point, it wouldn't surprise him if she went that far. Plus, who would believe him that he hadn't been the one to start the kiss?

The kiss. Now it left a bittersweet taste on his tongue, but, despite everything, Theodore didn't regret it.

And it disgusted him.

Was he really so desperate now? So needy?

He was certain that if any other girl had pulled a stunt like that, he would've never wanted to see her again.

But now, the opposite was true. He felt a desperate need to see Ophelia again. To see that disgusting winning smirk that he had found so attractive. He was certain that he would let everything happen all over again if it only meant she would kiss him again. No matter the consequences.

And he hated himself for it.

He clenched his jaw and dug his nails into the armrest of the chair, hard enough to leave crescents in the leather. The silence in the study was deafening, thick with judgment. Theodore could feel it, that unbearable pressure of being watched, evaluated, and already found lacking. He didn't dare look at his grandfather again, but he could feel his eyes, sharp and cutting, just behind the desk.

Finally, the pressure became unbearable. He needed to say something, plead his case in some way. Yes, she had won a battle, but he wasn't about to stay still and let her win the war.

"Grandfather—" His voice caught in his throat when his grandfather raised a hand to stop him.

"Did I say you could speak?" His strong voice, now not as angry as before, didn't produce the same fear in him, so foolishly, he persisted.

"But, If you just let me explain—"

"What is there to explain? I saw what happened."

Theodore forced himself to swallow a lump that had formed in his throat.