Keep Me by Sara Cate Summary, Characters and Themes

Keep Me by Sara Cate is a slow-burning, emotionally charged romance set against the backdrop of isolation, family betrayal, and a dangerous arrangement that turns into something far deeper.  At its core, the novel follows Sylvie Devereaux, a woman cut off from financial support and reeling from heartbreak, who is unexpectedly offered ten million dollars to marry a reclusive stranger, Killian Barclay, for one year.

What begins as a cold, transactional arrangement gradually unfolds into a tense and passionate exploration of emotional healing, self-worth, and unexpected love.  With its gothic estate setting and broken protagonists, the book offers a narrative that moves from manipulation and mistrust to intimacy and personal growth.

Summary

Sylvie Devereaux arrives in Scotland with her boyfriend, Aaron, on a seemingly innocent trip to Barclay Manor, the ancestral estate of Aaron’s family.  Her curiosity about a historic typewriter drives her to break into the manor, where she encounters Killian Barclay, the reclusive and aggressive current occupant.

He mistakes her for a spy sent by his sister, destroys her phone, and kicks her out.  This encounter sets off a chain of events that leads Sylvie into the heart of the Barclay family’s fractured legacy.

Back at the hotel, her strained relationship with Aaron reaches a breaking point, especially when Sylvie later discovers him having sex with her best friend.  Devastated and cut off financially by her wealthy but cold parents, Sylvie’s life descends into chaos.

When Killian’s sister, Anna Barclay, shows up at her apartment with an unusual proposition—that Sylvie marry Killian in exchange for ten million dollars—Sylvie laughs it off at first.  But desperation and a need to reclaim control of her life push her to accept.

Killian, isolated for a decade inside Barclay Manor after the traumatic loss of his parents, is emotionally volatile and skeptical of Sylvie.  Their marriage is a legal performance designed to wrest control of the estate from Killian’s grip.

At the wedding, Sylvie stands alone while Killian tolerates the ceremony with cold indifference.  They agree to maintain the illusion of a marriage, including making appearances and avoiding infidelity.

Despite their shared disdain, the arrangement forces them to coexist and present as a couple in public.

Sylvie struggles to navigate the emotionally barren manor and the moods of a man hardened by grief and addiction.  Slowly, however, cracks appear in Killian’s emotional armor.

She sees him at his worst—drunk, bleeding, self-destructive—and unexpectedly finds herself caring enough to clean up after him, bandage his wounds, and maintain the fragile peace.  Killian’s siblings, especially Lachy, reveal how deep Killian’s trauma runs.

Anna’s decision to bring in Sylvie was born out of desperation rather than malice.

As days pass, small gestures begin to shift the dynamic.  During Christmas, Killian gives Sylvie a new phone, a symbol of trust and intimacy.

She returns the gesture with a pair of gloves.  Though the holiday is filled with superficial pleasantries, the emotional undertone between them is impossible to ignore.

At a family gathering, Sylvie defends Killian from his cruel aunt, revealing her growing attachment.  Later, their emotions erupt into passion, marked by sex that blends emotional need with physical dominance, deepening the bond neither of them can fully acknowledge.

The intimacy continues to grow.  Sylvie cuts Killian’s hair before the party, a quiet and oddly intimate act.

She lets him read her manuscript, allowing him access to her vulnerabilities.  When she falls ill, Killian becomes frantic, caring for her obsessively.

Through this, Sylvie begins to recognize Killian’s capacity for love and gentleness hidden beneath layers of pain.  Though both continue to insist that their arrangement is temporary, their actions betray them.

Killian admits he didn’t intend to fall in love, but Sylvie has changed him.  She, in turn, begins to understand how deeply she cares for him.

Everything crashes down when Anna reveals Sylvie’s original financial motive to Killian.  Feeling betrayed and believing he is protecting Sylvie from himself, Killian asks her to leave.

Despite her desperate pleas, he insists on ending the marriage, citing the need to let her go so she can live freely.  Heartbroken, Sylvie leaves Barclay Manor, returning to New York with only her manuscript and regret.

Sylvie tries to move on but continues to miss Killian.  Her old wounds reopen when she runs into Enid, her parents’ former assistant, who was fired for defending her.

Their shared resentment against her parents becomes a moment of healing.  Despite a late-night phone call and text exchange with Killian filled with longing, he tells her not to wait for him.

Weeks later, a letter from Killian arrives, full of love and apologies.  He credits Sylvie with saving his life and reshaping his future.

Though there is no immediate reunion, the emotional groundwork is laid.  Killian calls her during a drive—an enormous feat for someone who hadn’t left his home in a decade—and they share a moment of deep emotional connection.

When Sylvie prints a personal copy of her book, Killian is proud, offering validation and encouragement she’d never received before.

Then Killian disappears after handing over the deed to his aunt.  Fearing the worst, Anna contacts Sylvie, who rushes home to prepare for a flight to Scotland.

But Killian appears on her stoop in New York instead.  His arrival is the final proof of transformation: he has conquered his fears, left the manor behind, and come to her willingly.

He tells her that he came because she waited for him.  Their reunion is passionate and tender, marking the beginning of their real relationship—no longer bound by money, obligation, or deceit.

The couple quietly marries at a city clerk’s office, leaving behind grandeur for authenticity.  Killian chooses to remain in New York, refusing to reclaim Barclay Manor even after inheriting it.

He has left that life behind for good.  In the epilogue, Killian and Sylvie live peacefully together.

When Anna calls about the estate, Killian simply says that Sylvie is all he needs.  Their love, once born of desperation, has evolved into something enduring, stable, and freely chosen.

The book closes on a note of quiet triumph, as two broken people find in each other not just healing, but a future worth claiming.

Characters

Sylvie Devereaux

Sylvie Devereaux emerges as a sharp, emotionally fractured, and fiercely independent woman whose life is marred by familial neglect and personal betrayal.  Cut off from her wealthy artist parents who treat her as an afterthought in their self-centered world, Sylvie’s arc is initially one of desperation and defiance.

Her hunger for identity and purpose drives her impulsiveness—from trespassing on Barclay Manor to confronting betrayal by her best friend and boyfriend.  Beneath her brash exterior, Sylvie yearns for a place to belong, a life that feels authentic and not defined by the cold void of her parents’ elitist detachment or the performative perfection demanded by people like Aaron.

As she transitions into her contractual marriage with Killian, her motivations remain pragmatic—money, freedom, revenge—but over time, her emotional defenses waver.  Her tenderness, protectiveness, and vulnerability begin to surface, particularly in moments when Killian shows his broken humanity.

Yet, even as she begins to fall in love, Sylvie clings to her autonomy, terrified of becoming dependent on anyone again.  Her emotional journey from disillusionment to quiet hope is grounded in hard-won growth.

Sylvie ultimately embodies a modern heroine—deeply flawed, driven by pride and pain, yet courageous enough to embrace love without losing herself.

Killian Barclay

Killian Barclay is a brooding, emotionally tortured recluse whose grief and guilt over his parents’ deaths have paralyzed him for a decade.  Haunted by loss and suffocated by the burden of legacy, Killian secludes himself within the decaying walls of Barclay Manor, numbing himself with alcohol, women, and rage.

He is introduced as abrasive and unpredictable—someone who destroys Sylvie’s phone and throws her out without remorse—but the facade slowly crumbles to reveal a man aching for connection and absolution.  His volatility masks an aching sensitivity, one that is carefully exposed through Sylvie’s presence.

Though he initially sees her as a transactional inconvenience, Killian is drawn to her fire and refusal to cower before him.  Through their chaotic intimacy, he starts to confront the parts of himself he’s long buried—his capacity for love, his vulnerability, and his desire to be more than the family’s disgrace.

The evolution of Killian’s character is one of emotional reclamation.  As he battles addiction, trust issues, and a profound fear of loss, he gradually chooses life, love, and growth over isolation.

His final acts—leaving the house, confessing his love, and marrying Sylvie for real—are not just romantic gestures but hard-earned victories in a war he’s waged against himself.

Anna Barclay

Anna Barclay is a woman of steel and strategy, whose love for her brother is matched only by her desperation to rescue him from his self-imposed ruin.  As the orchestrator of the marriage scheme, Anna plays the long game, hoping to shake Killian out of his stagnation.

Her motivations, while manipulative, stem from genuine concern, making her one of the more morally complex figures in the story.  Anna’s belief in tough love leads her to enlist Sylvie, not because of sentimentality, but because she sees in Sylvie a match for Killian’s stubbornness and a fire that could reignite his will to live.

Her emotional investment in her family estate and her brother’s future never wavers, even as she navigates the chaos that follows.  Anna operates as both puppet master and caretaker, walking a fine line between coercion and compassion.

Though her methods are questionable, her intentions are rooted in love and loyalty, making her an integral catalyst for the story’s transformation.

Aaron

Aaron serves as the narrative’s emblem of superficial control and emotional cowardice.  As Sylvie’s initial boyfriend, he is obsessed with appearances, political ambition, and decorum.

His distaste for Sylvie’s impulsive and passionate nature reveals a man more concerned with optics than authenticity.  When he betrays her with Margot, it isn’t just an act of infidelity—it’s a final blow in a relationship already devoid of emotional intimacy.

Aaron’s character highlights the contrast between performative success and genuine connection.  His role, though secondary, is essential in propelling Sylvie toward her journey of self-reclamation and discovery.

Margot

Margot, Sylvie’s best friend turned betrayer, embodies the fragility of trust and the pain of intimate betrayal.  Her affair with Aaron shatters Sylvie’s last tether to emotional safety in New York.

Though her betrayal is brutal, Margot’s actions serve as a crucible moment that forces Sylvie to cut ties with a toxic past.  She represents a cautionary tale—how familiarity and convenience can mask disloyalty, and how true support must be tested in fire.

Enid

Enid, once the assistant to Sylvie’s distant parents, becomes a quiet but powerful figure of empathy and redemption.  Her dismissal for defending Sylvie is one of the first acts of solidarity Sylvie receives in her journey.

Enid’s presence, though limited, offers a healing balm to Sylvie’s parental wounds.  Their shared resentment toward the Devereauxs becomes a moment of connection that affirms Sylvie’s worth beyond her parents’ neglect.

Aunt Lorna

Aunt Lorna is the story’s embodiment of old money cruelty, family disdain, and conditional affection.  Her contempt for Killian is a constant reminder of his failure in the eyes of his relatives.

Lorna’s sharp tongue and manipulative behavior inject tension into every scene she inhabits.  Yet, in her coldness, she inadvertently reveals the depth of Killian’s emotional scars.

Her eventual death and Killian’s choice not to return to the house she leaves him underscore his complete emotional evolution—he no longer seeks approval or inheritance from someone who never truly valued him.

Themes

Contractual Love and Emotional Transformation

Sylvie and Killian’s relationship begins as a purely transactional agreement, framed by money and manipulation, but it slowly evolves into an emotionally complex and deeply transformative bond.  Their marriage is engineered by Anna for ulterior motives and accepted by Sylvie out of desperation and pride, stripping it of any romantic idealism.

Yet, as they are forced into proximity and forced to perform affection before others, genuine emotions seep in.  Their emotional growth is not instantaneous, nor does it follow a predictable romantic arc.

Sylvie fights her feelings, clinging to the deal as a shield, even as moments of tenderness—like Killian giving her a phone for Christmas or reading her manuscript—pierce through her defenses.  For Killian, who begins the story as a bitter recluse, Sylvie becomes a catalyst for recovery and re-engagement with life.

Their slow-burning romance shows that emotional intimacy cannot be manufactured but can arise even under false pretenses when vulnerability is risked.  What begins as performance gives way to authenticity, revealing the raw need each has for love, understanding, and personal reinvention.

Their journey underscores how love is not simply felt—it is fought for, resisted, doubted, and, ultimately, chosen despite fear.

Isolation, Grief, and the Struggle Toward Healing

Killian’s reclusiveness and aggressive behavior are rooted in profound, unprocessed grief, which has kept him trapped inside Barclay Manor and inside himself for nearly a decade.  His inability to leave the estate is not just physical confinement but a metaphor for psychological paralysis.

Grief, in his case, is a form of self-punishment; he punishes himself for surviving, for failing to protect what he loved, and for being unable to move forward.  Sylvie’s intrusion into his world disturbs this stagnation.

Her chaos, vitality, and emotional transparency act as a mirror he cannot ignore.  At first, he lashes out, but eventually, he confronts his pain.

This confrontation is not grand or dramatic—it is shown in the quiet ways he begins to care, in his decision to cut back on drinking, in his courage to finally leave the manor.  Healing, as portrayed in Keep Me, is slow, nonlinear, and rarely complete.

It requires humility, support, and risk.  Sylvie, too, begins the story emotionally dislocated—from her parents, her artistic self, and her future.

By the end, both characters have undergone a process of emotional reclamation, rooted in the recognition that they do not have to remain broken or alone.

Female Rage and Autonomy

Sylvie’s journey is one defined by reclaiming agency in a world that repeatedly seeks to minimize her.  She is disempowered by her wealthy parents, dismissed by her boyfriend, and betrayed by her best friend.

Her initial decision to enter a sham marriage is less about greed and more about asserting control over a life that has spiraled beyond her grasp.  Her rage, while often viewed as immature or destructive by others, becomes her fuel.

She resists being molded into a palatable, submissive woman for the sake of family, romance, or career.  Throughout the narrative, Sylvie’s anger is not condemned—it is validated.

It is a response to betrayal, gaslighting, and systemic dismissal.  Her refusal to behave, to apologize, or to soften herself for men’s comfort becomes a central tenet of her character.

And even as she falls in love, her sense of self strengthens.  She never stops writing, never gives up her dreams, and eventually achieves a place in the world that is hers by right—not by proximity to power, but by enduring pain, learning resilience, and refusing to be erased.

Betrayal and Forgiveness

Betrayal runs through the early and middle chapters like a pulse: Sylvie is betrayed by Aaron, by Margot, and eventually by Killian when he casts her out.  Killian, too, feels betrayed—by Sylvie’s concealment of Anna’s motives and by the world that left him alone in his grief.

These betrayals fracture trust, leaving raw wounds that make love feel dangerous and reconciliation impossible.  Yet the narrative explores how forgiveness—when earned, not assumed—can lead to liberation.

Sylvie doesn’t offer Killian automatic absolution, and he doesn’t expect it.  Instead, both characters spend time apart, wrestling with their choices and their pain.

It’s only after this period of emotional exile that they can return to each other, changed and humbled.  Forgiveness in Keep Me is not about forgetting or excusing harm; it’s about acknowledging the full depth of that harm and choosing connection anyway.

It is through this choice that their love becomes something real and resilient.  The final act, where Killian shows up at Sylvie’s door rather than expecting her to come to him, is a silent testament to the work he has done, and the forgiveness they both have come to offer each other.

Class Privilege and Creative Despair

The novel also confronts the entanglement of class privilege with artistic ambition and personal worth.  Sylvie, born into an elite but neglectful family of artists, lives with the dissonance of being both privileged and powerless.

Her parents’ fame and fortune shield her from certain material hardships but deny her emotional security and self-definition.  Her desire to be a writer is mocked, unsupported, or viewed as a burden—especially by people like Aaron, who see her art as frivolous.

The creative despair Sylvie feels isn’t simply about rejection or lack of success—it’s about the disillusionment that comes from realizing that even with opportunity, art cannot flourish in an atmosphere of emotional starvation.  Killian, too, inherits a kind of unwanted privilege: a manor he cannot leave, a title he doesn’t want, and a name that weighs on him like a shackle.

Both characters must redefine success and self-worth outside of inherited legacies.  For Sylvie, completing her novel becomes not just a professional goal but an act of survival and self-validation.

Her love for writing is reclaimed on her own terms, not as an echo of her parents or a tool for external validation.  The novel thus critiques the illusion that privilege protects against suffering, and instead offers a vision of purpose built through authenticity, not inheritance.