My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45 Hidden Faces Collide

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Facing away from Naomi, Fiona jammed the hat back on and shot Soren a pleading glance. If Naomi discovered her dressed as a man to see him, her reputation alone would be impossible to salvage.

The man sat there as unruffled as still water–no hint of alarm. One could imagine him keeping a mistress in open daylight, and his lawful wife would never suspect.

“I carried out your orders,” Naomi muttered, her lower lip jutting like a child denied sweets. Soren doted on her, but when his temper rose, she never dared cross him.

Soren unfolded the booklet–the handwriting inside was neat, earnest, unmarred by shortcuts -then asked, “Angry, are we?”

“Besides, the snow–viewing party–well, I didn’t invite Fiona on purpose. I was afraid she might bump into you up here, so I left her name off the list.”

Realizing the matter concerned her, Fiona felt a shy ripple of pleasure. She reminded herself it was merely Soren’s way of tightening the net; once he no longer needed her to find Morgan, the warmth would fade.

Soren cast a quick glance at Fiona—still hidden beneath that straw hat—then turned back to Naomi. “Mother taught you never to offend others on purpose. I won’t punish you today, but keep this up, and people will say the Zonfrillo daughter bullies the weak.”

The reprimand landed like a weighty crown. Naomi’s eyes turned glassy with fear for the estate’s good name–she had never meant to tarnish it. As she studied her brother’s mood, she finally noticed the frail little tutor standing nearby.

The newcomer was a diminutive figure swathed in a black scholar’s robe, a broad travel hat shadowing half the face. In Naomi’s eyes the words sprang unbidden–frail, almost wind-

blown.

Fiona lowered her head in a practiced bow, then lifted two slender fingers to her throat, the silent gesture of one who owns no voice.

“Is he mute?” Naomi asked, a flicker of pity softening her usual quick temper.

Fiona answered with a single, obedient nod.

Across the room Soren, calm as winter water a moment ago, let one brow rise in languid amusement. He offered no explanation, content to watch the small storm gather.

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14:47 Fri, Oct 10

Chapter 45 Hidden Faces Collide

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57

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A prickle of resentment stirred inside Fiona. If she was discovered, the blame would land squarely on her shoulders–never on the untroubled lord who now treated the moment as light entertainment.

Naomi tried again, her tone civil but curious. “Are you Soren’s servant?”

Fiona shook her head. Kneeling at the edge of the writing desk, she took up a vanishing ink stick, ground it with slow, meticulous grace, and when the ink turned satin–smooth, she brushed a neat line across the parchment: I am Salem of the Fragrant Pavilion.

Soren glanced at the words. The corner of his mouth pulled in a faint, dry curl that might have been a laugh.

“Salem of the Fragrant Pavilion—isn’t that…” The ugly phrase–courtesan—stalled on Naomi’s tongue. She shot her brother a furious look, stamping a slippered foot. How could Soren let someone like this ensnare him?

“Shameless woman! You dare bring your schemes into the Zonfrillo Estate.” Anger sharpened Naomi’s voice.

Fiona slid two steps backward and slipped behind Soren’s rangy frame. Both palms lighted on his arm as though he were a fortress she had every right to claim.

Soren made no move to shrug her off.

To Naomi, the scene conjured the infamous temptress of legends, a delicate viper who ruined proper men. Soren’s indulgence only proved, in her mind, how blind lust could render a man foolish.

If he wished to sit back and enjoy the spectacle, Fiona would gladly drag him onto the stage. She still needed his help to find the Divine Doctor; until then, he could hardly abandon her.

Soren prided himself on disdaining easy beauty, yet memories of that fever–bright dream returned–her limbs entangled with his, her breath catching against his ear, helpless sounds that begged and surrendered. Heat smoldered without permission.

Before he knew it, his body angled itself between Fiona and the room, shoulders squared, sheltering her completely. The realization cooled him at once. A clipped chill settled over his features, as though he might sever whatever invisible thread had just tightened around him.

“Soren, how can you defend a charlatan like her? I’m telling Mother!” Naomi’s voice quivered with outrage.

She refused even one more glance, flung the door wide, and vanished down the corridor in a

swirl of silk.

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