A Rivalry of Hearts

Chapter 36

There’s something so perfect about the feel of Edwina in my arms. Our bodies are slick and entwined as we catch our breath on the couch. Edwina’s eyes are closed, her cheek pressed to my chest. She must be graced with a riotous symphony from how frantically my heart beats against her ear. I don’t think it’s ever raced so fast. Nor do I believe I’ve ever felt so spent and satisfied.

I’ve had more lovers than I can count, but with Edwina…

Fuck, this is different. The mere thought of her saying mine while gliding down the length of my cock is almost enough to ready me for a second round, but I keep those urges at bay. She’s so peaceful right now, the way her lips curl in a sweet smile. The way her messy hair falls around her shoulders.

I angle my face and plant a kiss on her forehead. She makes an unintelligible sound, and I smile down at her. I’ve never wanted someone so bad. Never had so much of my heart involved with attraction. My only regret is that we didn’t talk as much as I wanted before my desires took over. We didn’t solve anything. Didn’t state what exactly this is that we have together, or how to navigate our competition for the contract going forward. But do we need a plan? Isn’t it enough that we feel the same? Doesn’t that mean we can work through whatever comes next together?

The fact that Edwina didn’t use her free pass to do what we did tonight gives me hope. It means it was as real for her as it was for me. Not a game.

Once our breathing calms, Edwina lifts her cheek from my chest and props her chin there. I keep an arm wrapped around her, drawing circles over her back with my fingertips. She studies my face, tracing the edge of my jaw, then my pointed ear. She circles her thumb over the gold stud in my lobe, which summons visions of when I did the same to her clit.

My cock stirs at the memory, but when she releases a slow sigh that carries too serious of an edge, I sober from such notions.

She gives me a sad smile and laces her fingers over my pectoral, then props her chin on her hands. “What should we do, William?”

I’m not the only one who realized we still have problems to solve. I brush my hand down the length of her spine, resisting the urge to palm her ass. “About the contract?”

“Our feelings for each other don’t change the fact that we both need it.”

She’s right. And whatever is blooming between us is still too new to attach any promises to it. Even though part of me wants to blurt out that if I win, I’ll take care of her. We’ll get married, if we must, for that’s one way to secure citizenship on the isle. But I wouldn’t want that for us—a union built on necessity—and Edwina wouldn’t either. She’s already not fond of traditional matrimony, and her pride is too bold, bright, and beautiful to be dimmed. Yet dimmed she would be if she had to become dependent on a lover. She won’t thrive unless she earns what she wants for herself.

However, I can’t simply hand her the win either. I need it as much as Edwina does. Cassie needs it too.

Which leaves the solution I proposed before.

I shift to the side, cradling her head in the crook of my arm, until I’m facing her. “Let’s dissolve the bet.”

Her eyes turn down at the corners and she nibbles her bottom lip. I can’t summon even a flicker of annoyance over her hesitation, for I understand why she wants to cling to this advantage. She still has a one-point lead, and she knows now that I can’t play the game. I proved that tonight, to us both.

After our conversation on the rooftop, I thought I’d resigned myself to do what needed to be done, but I was wrong. I couldn’t stand the thought of sharing a drink with Aubrey, much less a kiss. The last thing I want is to lead anyone on when my heart is wrapped around Edwina.

She drops her gaze from mine. “It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I whisper, brushing my fingertips over her cheek. She still won’t look at me. “If you need more time, we don’t have to do it now.”

She burrows her face into my chest. “Do you think I’m a terrible person? For not being ready to let go of my lead?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s just…I want this so bad. This one point I have over you guarantees my win if we forgo further progress in our bet. I’ll get the contract, and I’ll get to live here. Which…which is also the only way I get to be with you.”

My chest tightens. I hate that she’s right. What will happen to us if I win? She’ll have to move back to Bretton, and then what? We carry on a long-distance romance while she applies for citizenship and hopes it’s approved? Or I finally win her heart enough that she opens up to the idea of marriage and she claims her citizenship that way? And what of her financial situation in the meantime? What of her career?

Blooming hell, these are the kinds of questions those in longstanding relationships would struggle to answer. This affection we’ve confessed to is too fragile, just a seed without roots. We’re not ready to make these heavy choices.

Her voice quavers and she speaks again. “Then what if I win? What if you hate me?—”

“Edwina.” I pull back and gently lift her chin with my forefinger until she meets my eyes. “I promise with all my heart that I won’t hold it against you if you win. My feelings will not be changed by that.”

There. A promise I can give that she’ll readily accept.

She holds my eyes for several long beats of my heart before she finally nods. I release her chin and she nestles against my chest again. We’re quiet for a while, but the silence grows weighted. Her breaths are suddenly too soft. Her arms too stiff around my waist.

“Will you tell me about June?”

Her question carves a fissure through my heart, draining it of every pleasant feeling I’ve been basking in. It’s the last thing I was ready for. A truth I’ve withheld. I’ve hinted at it, but I haven’t outright stated the facts.

Up until now, it seemed too soon. This secret wasn’t meant to be given to someone who was merely my rival, no matter how much I wanted her to be more. If she wasn’t going to be more, then she didn’t need to know.

But now…

Fuck. Now it seems too late.

My heart thuds an anxious rhythm.

Edwina pulls back again, looking up at me with a furrowed brow. “You’ve told others. You told Jolene. Won’t you tell me too?”

I swallow the sudden dryness in my throat. “That story isn’t for you.”

“Why?” She shifts in my arms to a seated position. “Why did they deserve to know but I don’t?”

“It’s not about deserving or not deserving. I’m just…afraid. That everything will change. That you’ll look at me differently once you know.”

She shakes her head. “I won’t be jealous if that’s what you’re worried about. I just want to know this final piece you’ve kept from me. I want to understand why you’re keeping it.”

I lift myself up to sit beside her, rubbing my jaw. Now it’s my turn to avoid her gaze.

“Who is June, William?”

My pulse rackets, and I wish my clothes weren’t so far away. I’d give anything to cover myself. To hide the vulnerability I feel now.

She tilts her head, inserting her face into my line of sight. “Who is this great love of your life that you write all your poems about?”

I release a weighted sigh, then let my eyes lock on hers. “I don’t write poetry about some great love.”

She frowns. “Then who…”

“I don’t…write poetry.”

Her frown deepens.

“I don’t write.”

I catch the moment realization dawns, draining her face of color.

“I act.”

Edwina is frozen, not even stirred by her breaths. Meanwhile, my pounding heart has me trembling from head to toe. I’m so fixated on Edwina’s every move, so afraid of her reaction, that I don’t miss the narrowing of her eyes, the tightening of her jaw.

“You didn’t write the poetry book.”

I give a slow shake of my head. “Cassie did.”

“Your sister wrote it. And you…took credit for it?”

“It’s not like that,” I rush to say. “Cassie submitted her poetry book under my name without telling me. When she was offered a contract, one with a favorable enough advance to pay off most of our debts, she begged me to accept it and publish it as William Haywood.”

She narrows her eyes. “You say that like it’s not your real name.” A long pause. “Is it?”

“Not all fae have surnames, and I’m one of those fae. Haywood is Cassie’s surname. Lydia’s too. I’m just…Will.”

“Then who the hell is June? What is this story you told Jolene?”

“That’s all it is. Just a story. It’s part of my act to support the poetry book. William the Poet is a role I play, and he comes with a backstory. I admit I’ve used that to my advantage, mostly to keep interested lovers at bay. That’s why I never told you this fabricated tale. Because I didn’t want to keep you at bay.”

Edwina stares at me for a long moment. The longer she holds my gaze, the more obvious her anger becomes. She rises from the couch and gathers her discarded clothing on her way to the billiards table. There she replaces her spectacles, then dons her skirt and blouse, not bothering with her undergarments. I follow her, pulling my trousers over my legs as I close the distance between us.

“You lied to me,” she says as she secures the buttons of her blouse with trembling fingers.

I stop before her and frame her shoulders in my hands. “It’s not like that.”

She leaves her blouse only half buttoned as she glares at me, fingers curled into fists. “You lied to me, and you lie to your fans. What else have you lied to me about? Was everything you’ve said to me an act? Was this…was what we just did together part of some game?”

I clench my jaw. “That’s a stretch to assume I’ve lied about anything else. I’ve rarely acted when it’s just the two of us.”

“Rarely?”

“I can only lie when I’m fully immersed in a role, Edwina, and I’m not acting now. Which is why I can only say rarely. Because, yes, I have acted around you in the past, particularly when we first met. But as I’ve gotten to know you, to care for you, I’ve been nothing but the real me.”

“How am I supposed to trust that? You could have told me the truth at any time but you didn’t.”

“Would you have judged me for it? Like you’re judging me now when you still don’t fully understand the situation?”

She shrugs her shoulders from my grip. “Don’t you dare blame me for judging you. Of course I am! We’re competing for a contract you don’t deserve. The poetry book isn’t yours. You made me feel bad for you, claiming you were acting in your sister’s best interests. That you were putting her through college. Fulfilling her dreams.”

“I am.”

“No, if you were doing anything for her sake, you would have supported her work.”

I throw my hands in the air. “Is that not what I’m doing? We needed the money, and she asked me to do this for her. No one wanted to publish a nineteen-year-old girl’s sexy poetry. Not until she attached it to my name and credentials as an actor. She was overjoyed when she received the publication offer.”

“That’s not what it means to show your support. That’s reinforcing the idea that a young woman can’t succeed on her own.”

Her words slap me across my face. Cassie has never expressed anything but enthusiasm over our arrangement, but is Edwina right? Was I wrong to agree to this opportunity?

I shake the doubts from my mind. “She doesn’t want the spotlight. She just wants her work appreciated during her lifetime, even if it isn’t attached to her name.”

“Everyone wants their work appreciated, William, and we all fight for it. No one gets a ticket for an easy life.”

Rage boils my blood. An easy life. That’s what she thinks we have?

“Not everyone can afford the pride of being a starving artist,” I say through my teeth. “Not everyone shares your ideals. Ideals don’t feed your family. Ideals won’t keep my sister alive long enough to enjoy the fruits of her labor after she’s spent her final years striving and fighting for renown. Not everyone wants that fucking life!”

Her cheeks flare crimson. “Is that how you see me? Just a ball of stubborn pride living off ideals?”

I close my eyes and run a hand over my face, doing all I can to cool my temper. I don’t want to yell at her. I want to pull her against my chest and bring us back to that beautiful place we were in when she first stormed into the room. But when I open my eyes, she’s no longer before me. Instead, she’s tugging at the door, both handles still wrapped in my vines.

I stride after her. “Where are you going? Are you done with me, just like that? Without giving us a chance to work through this?”

She keeps her eyes pinned to the door. “I don’t know. I just…I knew this was going to happen.” She mutters the last part under her breath.

“You knew what was going to happen? That we’d fight? That you’d find a reason to push me away? Is that why you asked about June before you agreed to dissolve our bet? Were you just looking for any excuse to keep this advantage over me?”

She whirls to face me. “This isn’t just about the bet. But maybe you’re right. Maybe I was waiting for this to happen because my past has taught me it will. Men lie. They present themselves one way and then turn out nothing like their pretty promises?—”

“Do not compare me to Dennis Feverforth,” I say, dropping my voice. “This has nothing to do with him or your past. This is happening now, and you are running away.”

She releases a groan as she tugs the handles again. “I’m not running away. Just let me out. Get rid of these vines so I can get away from you and breathe for a minute.”

The panic in her voice slices through my chest. I hate the thought of her leaving while things are like this, even if she’s only going to her room. Every instinct in me yearns to cling to her, to hold her while we yell and talk and fight until we come to a solution, even if only a temporary truce. Even just a promise to try to understand each other. But she isn’t me. Maybe she processes hurt differently than I do. Maybe she processes it alone.

I can’t force her to be anyone other than who she is.

Because I love who she is.

I love her.

Even if she hates me now.

Slowly, I lower my fingers to the handle. My chest tightens at how she flinches away, yet I extend my magic and dissolve the vines.

“I won’t keep you here,” I whisper, “but please come back to me if you find it in your heart to want to work this out. I know you’re hurt, and I understand why. I know this fight feels fucking horrible, but please, Edwina. Please don’t let this end what we’ve begun.”

Her throat bobs and she gives a single jerky nod.

The last of the vines fall to the floor, and she turns the handle at last. She storms out of the room, leaving me colder than I’ve ever been before.