Sophie's Surrender, page 1
Sophie’s Surrender
By Sam Mariano & Laura Lovett
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Sophie’s Surrender © 2022 Sam Mariano
All rights reserved.
___
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Thank you for not being a pirate!
Contents
Author’s note from Sam Mariano
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter seventeen
Chapter eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter twenty
Chapter twenty-one
Chapter twenty-two
Chapter twenty-three
Chapter twenty-four
Chapter twenty-five
Chapter twenty-six
Chapter twenty-seven
Chapter twenty-eight
Chapter twenty-nine
Chapter thirty
Chapter thirty-one
Chapter thirty-two
Chapter thirty-three
Chapter thirty-four
Chapter thirty-five
Chapter thirty-six
Chapter thirty-seven
Chapter thirty-eight
Chapter thirty-nine
Chapter forty
Chapter forty-one
Chapter forty-two
Epilogue
Also by SAM MARIANO
About the Author
About the Author
Author’s note from Sam Mariano
Hello, dear reader.
All my books come with some type of warning, so if this is your first by me, welcome!
If it isn’t and you’re well-versed in my shenanigans, go ahead and start reading. There shouldn’t be anything you haven’t encountered before.
If you’re new to me and require trigger warnings, please be aware that this story will contain dub-con sometimes right up to the non-con line. There will be manipulation from the romantic hero, and the suggestion of birth control makes him LOL. Silvan is possessive to the point of toxicity. He is also pretty stalkerish. Sophie forgets this sometimes because he gives her enough orgasms to potentially cause brain damage, but if you’re not into toxic book boyfriends, you might not have a good time here. We are, so we had a great time! :)
If you’ve enjoyed my heroes before, this book should be right up your alley. If you’re a Laura Lovett reader and haven’t read my stuff before, please be aware that my stuff is darker than hers, so Silvan may be a bit darker than what you’re used to.
This story takes place in my Coastal Elite world, but Sophie and Silvan’s story can be read as a standalone. If you’d like to start my Coastal Elite series, it begins with Dare and Aubrey’s book, Even if it Hurts. Next year, Silvan and Sophie’s story will join that series as just Surrender, but then it will be paired with a short story/series bonus content that will make that book not a standalone. That’s one of the reasons I’m releasing it this way now even though I know it will be rebranded later. I wanted the story to be accessible whether you’re reading that series or not.
I hope you enjoy Sophie and Silvan’s story! I know we did.
Happy reading! ❤️
Chapter one
Sophie
I knew I should have brought an Uber to this thing.
Sighing, I turn the steering wheel and try to maneuver into a too-small spot in the too-full driveway.
Everyone is here tonight.
The thought causes my introverted soul to shrivel, but after being a hermit the entire last year of high school, I promised Mom I would make an effort in college.
Since school started at the end of August, things haven't been much different from high school—except for the class schedule—but when my roommate invited me to this Halloween party tonight, I knew I had to go.
Once I get the car parked, I grab my little denim purse and climb out. Nervously fidgeting with my too-short cut-off jean shorts, I glance around, hoping no one sees me.
These stupid things keep riding up.
I never wear shorts this short, but it's a costume party and I decided to come as a farm girl. It was the best thing I could put together with stuff I already had in my dresser.
I might be willing to put myself out there and come to this party, but I wasn’t about to waste $60 on some slutty pirate costume on top of it.
My blonde hair is braided and in pigtails. I'm wearing a flannel top with the front tucked into my tiny denim shorts. The best part of this costume is that, as I enter the sprawling mansion, I see girls in painful-looking heels all over the place, but here I am in a comfy pair of ankle boots.
Nailed it.
I'm not overly stylish, anyway. I prize comfort over beauty, and fashion tends not to. My feet wouldn't even know how to react if I tried squeezing them into a pair of high heels.
The music is so loud it hurts my ears as I pass through the entryway and into the first room full of people. I want to get away from the speakers, so I quickly go deeper into the house.
I search the room full of faces, some I've at least seen before, but others complete strangers. A random guy makes eye contact with me, making my heart beat a little faster and my nerves start to fray.
I veer into a hallway to get away from him.
Am I really ready for this?
Maybe not, but I'm here now. Better make the best of it.
I scan the crowd in this new room for a familiar face, someone safe and comfortable I can talk to.
I should’ve come with Kendra, but I didn’t want to be stuck without a ride in the very likely event that I decide to leave early. Plus, not having my roommate to lean on would force me to socialize.
I haven’t really met many people at college yet. There are people in my classes I’ve exchanged casual smiles with, but I’ve been too shy to say much outside of the typical schoolroom niceties.
None of these people look familiar, though.
For a panicked moment, I wonder if I’m at the right house. What if I got the address wrong and came to the wrong stupid Halloween party?
Before I can work myself into too much of a panic, I spot a group of girls from my Spanish class gathered near the refreshments table. I paste on a quick smile, but they quickly look away when they catch me looking at them.
My smile droops.
I guess they don't want to talk to me.
I take a deep breath and try to ignore the impulse to take this as a sign and flee. I could so easily turn around and go right back to my dorm…
But no, I promised Mom I would try. I have to give it a real shot.
Forcing myself to socialize makes me anxious, so I focus on the home itself.
This party is being thrown by some rich guy on campus, and he lives in his family’s classy old-money Boston mansion. It’s decked out for Halloween with candles flickering inside of ornately carved Jack-O-Lanterns and fake cobwebs in every corner, but the home’s classical décor has so much history of its own, it lends an air of authenticity to the spooky vibe.
I've never been in a house this grand before, never even seen something so impressive except on the glossy pages of this old Sotheby's magazine I flipped through in the clearance section of a used bookstore once.
The inside of the house is just as imposing as the outside.
This old mansion has real character and a sense of stalwart confidence that tells me it doesn’t need to keep up with the times. It may not have all the modern upgrades of flashier homes in a similar price range, but it doesn’t need them to be impressive.
This house doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. It is what it is; like it, or don’t.
I like its vibe, so I spend more time exploring the house itself than the party I didn’t want to come to. I’m sure I’m not supposed to, but the quiet of the empty rooms provides even more temptation I can’t bring myself to resist.
Eventually, though, I make my way back to the rooms crowded with partygoers.
There are people everywhere, mingling and laughing and dancing. Some are paired off in corners, kissing and touching with sly smiles and roaming hands.
My skin crawls in sympathy even though I realize the girl I'm watching is actually into it and wants the attention she's getting.
When I look away from the display, I feel an icky weight in my limbs, a full sick feeling inside me. It should dissipate when I turn away from the stimuli, but it doesn't. If anything, the sensation intensifies.
It feels like I'm being watched, but I know that's crazy. It’s just because I feel myself starting to get panicky and it’s so embarrassing that I’m worried about someone noticin
I don't expect to find anybody actually watching me, so when I cede to my paranoia and take a look around, I'm shocked to lock eyes with an imposing figure leaning over the railing on the second floor, watching me without distraction from his solitary perch.
His intense gaze is locked on me, and his eyes are such a piercing green, I can see their color from all the way down here.
Why is he watching me like that?
Because he is watching me. It’s not like when I happened to meet the glances of the girls from Spanish class. His gaze is trained on me, and I get the feeling it has been for longer than I realized.
Probably because you're being such a socially awkward lunatic, Sophie. Get a hold of yourself.
I tell myself that's all it is, but the knowing smirk that tugs at his full lips makes me decidedly uneasy. It’s like he can tell he’s making me uncomfortable and he… likes it.
What a creep.
I tear my gaze away from his and turn away like it doesn’t bother me, but I can still feel his gaze burning into me until I disappear from the room—and his line of sight.
Everyone else seems to be having fun, but to me, this party feels a little like being chased through a haunted house. Spooks around every corner, and not a chainsaw in sight.
There are a lot of Jack-o-lanterns, though. My hands ache for whoever had to carve these elaborate designs into so many pumpkins.
The next room is huge and packed so it’s easy to get lost in. I wouldn’t normally enjoy such a crowded room, but I feel like I can easily blend in with so many people, and I’m creeped out from that guy upstairs watching me the way he did.
People in costumes are gathered in groups standing and talking, scattered across pieces of expensive-looking furniture, and leaning against walls checking their phones.
Across the room, a girl dressed in a kickass Harley Quinn costume is playing on her phone until Batman interrupts her. At first, it’s all in good fun, but I watch as the amusement on her face turns to annoyance. It’s easy to surmise she’s probably getting attention she doesn’t want from him now.
I take a step in her direction, intending to pretend I know her so I can offer a convenient escape from the obtuse fake hero, but before I make it more than a couple of steps, my path is blocked by a Viking.
His mantle of fur sways as he stops directly in front of me and crosses his muscular arms. I look up to say excuse me before I move around him, but the words never make it past my lips.
I stop short of gasping when I look up into the handsome but vaguely sinister face of the guy who was staring down at me from upstairs.
He’s wearing a great Viking costume with lush fur over his broad shoulders—hopefully faux fur—and adornments that look like real gold. Dark-colored clothes cling to his muscular torso and thighs, and there’s more fur covering his boots. A sheathed sword hangs at his hip, and his long dark hair is pulled back like the gorgeous Viking from one of my favorite TV shows.
If he told me he was an actual Viking who had stumbled upon time travel and stepped out into one of the rooms upstairs, I might be tempted to believe him.
I appreciate a sexy Viking as much as the next girl, but this one has already set off my admittedly sensitive creeper alarm, and I don’t have time to talk to him, anyway. I have to save Harley Quinn from Batman.
His voice is deep and rumbles right through me. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Ordinarily, my manners would compel me to introduce myself despite how uncomfortable he makes me, but I’m on a mission right now and can’t be deterred.
“Sure we have,” I say, even though we haven’t. “You’re Uhtred of Bebbanburg. I’ve watched many seasons of your show. Big fan. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
I try to brush past him, but he grabs my hip, stopping me right next to him.
My heart nearly stops.
His firm touch should make my skin crawl, but it doesn’t. It does make me nervous, and I look up at him with more caution than before.
“You haven’t told me who you are,” he states immovably.
“A farm girl.”
He smirks, his gaze traveling over my body with interest before returning to my face. “Yes, I can see that. Does the farm girl have a name?”
“She does, but she’s very busy right now.” I push his hand off my hip, relieved that he lets me, then try to move past him.
“Pigs to feed, cows to milk. I get it.” Despite saying that, he moves to continue blocking me when I try to walk past him. At least this time, he doesn’t touch me. “Are those contacts?”
A wave of annoyance tinged with self-consciousness moves through me. “No. I have heterochromia. One brown eye, one blue. All-natural.”
He nods. “I like it. Now, your name.”
His command should annoy me, but I realize he won’t leave me alone until he has it, so I give it to him. “It’s Sophie.”
“Silvan," he offers.
I cock an eyebrow. “Your name is Silvan?”
He nods somberly. “My parents are assholes.”
Reluctantly, I crack a smile.
“It’s a nice name, I’ve just never heard it before. Silvan what?”
“Silvan Koch. Do I get a last name, too?”
“Sophie Bradwell,” I say, since he’s apparently obsessed with learning my name. “Now, it’s been a pleasure, but I really have to…” I lean over to peer around his shoulder, but when I do, Harley Quinn is no longer being harassed by Batman—she’s being ravished by Joker. Judging by the way he has her pinned against that wall and the way her arms are locked around his neck, she is much more amenable to his attention.
Silvan glances over his shoulder to see where I’m looking. “Friend of yours?”
I shake my head. “Some creep was bugging her. I was going to help her out.”
He smirks. “She must like creeps.”
I roll my eyes. “Not the guy she’s making out with, some other guy dressed as Batman. I guess Joker scared him off.”
“Villains are better. Clearly, she agrees.”
I'm taken off guard when Silvan suddenly reaches out and traces the curve of my jaw with his finger. The touch alone causes my breath to catch and my tummy to tumble, but then there's the intense way he's looking at me...
“Well, if you're into villains, I don't know what you'd do with a sheltered farm girl like me, anyway,” I say with forced lightness, trying not to let his touch affect me.
He shrugs nonchalantly, but I can see interest glinting in his eyes as he drops his hand. “I've got some ideas."
I bet you do.
Since he's looking at me like he'd like to devour me, I can guess what kind of ideas he has, and I don't want any part of them.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I know I need to get away from him.
"Now, if you'll excuse me..."
I half expect him to stop me again, but this time, he lets me pass.
As I walk away, I can feel his eyes on me, watching my every move. But I refuse to let him feel how uneasy it makes me.
A normal person would feel bad if they made someone uncomfortable, but I still can't shake the sense that he would enjoy it.
Chapter two
Silvan
I sip the expensive Scotch I stole out of my father's liquor cabinet, letting it burn its way down my throat.
As I drink, I watch from the shadows as the girl who caught my eye earlier wanders aimlessly through my house.
I didn’t invite her, so I wonder who did. Clearly not a boyfriend. Maybe a friend, but I haven’t seen her spend much time with any of the girls, either. Could be a party crasher, I suppose. I’m sure there are people here who weren’t invited, just heard about the party and decided to show up. Doesn’t seem like her, though. I don’t know her, but just observing her here, I can’t imagine her going out of her way to come to a party she wasn’t even invited to.
She seems utterly out of place at this party, not at all the charming socialite I'm usually attracted to.
I don't know why she intrigues me so much, but I’ve been watching her since I noticed her sneaking out of one of the empty rooms… alone.
It’s not unusual for people to sneak off together at a party to hook up, but as I continued to keep an eye on her, I watched Sophie creep in and out of our private rooms completely alone and for no apparent reason.
