Chapter 34
Why couldn’t he have given me a reason? Just one damn reason? Why does he fan my hopes and desires, again and again, just to leave me dangling on the precipice like this?
Better yet…why didn’t I give him a reason?
Nausea and shame churn my stomach as I make my way from the ballroom to my hotel room. I don’t know if I should be relieved or repulsed that I don’t see William and Aubrey in the lobby. If they aren’t in the lobby, I don’t have to witness them flirting or touching. But their absence means they’re probably in one of their rooms by now.
Why am I so upset? I knew this was coming. This is the price I paid for refusing to let William dissolve our bet. The price was him, and it was supposed to be worth the reward—a contract I can win with certain, summable efforts. Maybe part of me thought William wouldn’t earn any further points, despite his taunting. That he’d be unable to perform intimate acts with anyone but me. That I’d keep my one-point lead and win our bet without either of us taking new lovers.
How vain can I be?
And how can I still question my decision when I know I was right to make it? When I know I can never let romance take precedence over my career?
Because you’re wrong, some small part of me taunts as I climb the final flight of stairs to our floor. I can’t bring myself to even look at an elevator right now.
I can’t be wrong, I say back to that quiet voice. Even if I am, what’s the point if it’s one-sided? If William can’t give me a reason?
That bolsters my nerve, just in time as I reach our floor. My companions and I have a full suite, even larger than Zane’s apartment, and just as beautiful as the rest of the hotel. Each of us has our own bedroom as well as a shared common room, recreation room, and enormous bath. I stop just outside the door to the common area, taking a bracing breath in case William and Aubrey are on the other side. But as I open the door, I find the suite empty. Quiet. All the surrounding doors are closed, and I don’t dare look too long to check if there is light emanating beneath any of them. It’s not my business. It can’t be my business.
On swift feet I stride to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me without meaning to. I seek out my carpet bag at once, settling in on the edge of my four-poster bed and shoving the curtain of cherry blossoms out of the way. This room was charming when I first arrived, but now everything annoys me. Even pretty things. Especially pretty things. Like Aubrey. Like William. Very much not like me and my vile, thorny heart.
You are beautiful.
Your words are beautiful.
I grit my teeth at the echoes of William’s voice and rifle through my bag. Why did he have to say that to me? Why did he have to show me a side of him that makes my heart race, skip, and flutter?
I find what I’m looking for at the bottom of my bag. A green book with a gold-foiled title. Tenderness wars with hurt and anger as I study it. I favor the latter emotion and shove the others away. William told me to get rid of this book, so I will. I’ll take it to the ballroom right now so they can set it up for tomorrow’s auction.
With the book clenched tight in one hand, I stomp back to my door.
But as I reach it, my feet stall. My hands refuse to reach for the knob.
With a frustrated groan, I lean against my closed door and stare down at the book. That tender feeling returns, along with a sharp ache in my chest.
As annoyed as I was when William first started pestering me with this damn book, that changed at the Winter Court signing. A lot of things changed then. He kissed me during our reading of The Governess and the Rake at the book club meeting. I used my free pass for the first time. And this book…
It turned into a treasure. A collection of insults, immaturity, and crude drawings. A sad smile tilts my lips as I open the title page. It’s a mess of both our handwritings.
Ed—
I like smut and drivel.
Well, I don’t like you. Or your book. Stop trying to give this to me.
You don’t have to like me to use me, Weenie.
There is also, of course, the penis I drew and labeled with William’s name, along with an assortment of page numbers we wrote to direct each other to poems we’d altered. I grin as I study each one, but as I’m about to flip to one of the indicated pages, I notice an annotation I don’t recognize. It’s in William’s handwriting, but the page number he wrote is neatly penned at the very top, standing out against the haphazard scrawls from before. Did he sneak one last edit in? And why does the ink look fresher?
I flip to the page number in question.
At the very top above one of his poems are two words.
Don’t forget
At the corner of the page is another handwritten number. 87.
I flip to it.
That you are
Another page number. 56 this time.
Beautiful.
Next, I’m directed to page 128.
And
Then page 37.
I think I should confess…
Page 212.
I’m
Page 114.
Falling
Page 235.
For
Page 6.
You.
I can hardly breathe. Can hardly comprehend the words I put together. There’s nothing after this. No more page numbers. Nothing to suggest this is just the start of a joke.
But it must be.
Right?
This can’t be real…can it?
No, William, you give me a reason.
Go get rid of that book.
I slam the cover shut, my mouth falling open. Did he want me to see this? Was this his answer? His reason? Because he’s…falling for me?
My head spins, and my feet move before my mind tells them to. Before I know it, I’m standing before William’s bedroom door, my knuckles rapping on its surface. My whole body shakes from the force of my racing heart, but its cadence turns to terror as only silence echoes back.
He isn’t in his room. Which means he must be in Aubrey’s. Can he even earn a point toward our bet in her room? Our terms state the intimate act must take place in our own bedroom.
But…
If he plans to stay the night with her…
Doesn’t that make her bedroom his for the evening?
My stomach drops. I didn’t consider that possibility when we were at Somerton House, but now it’s all I can think about.
I slam my hand against his door one last time.
“Is everything all right?”
I startle at Daphne’s voice and whirl to face her. She pads across the floor toward me, her tiny black eyes filled with worry.
“Have you seen William?” I rush to say.
She pauses and sits back on her haunches. “He’s in the recreation room,” she says, pointing a paw toward the farthest room.
My gaze narrows on the pair of double doors and the light glowing beneath them. Hope sparks in my chest. “Is he alone?”
“No, he’s?—”
I rush to the doors and throw them open, not caring about what I might walk in on.
Two sets of eyes lock on me at once, and two bodies go still.
But it isn’t William and Aubrey.
It’s William and Monty. Playing billiards with easy grins.
Their expressions slip in their surprise at my sudden intrusion, but Monty recovers first. He takes a long drag of his cigarillo, eying me with a knowing smirk, then places his cue on a rack. “I can guess whom you’re here to see, and it isn’t me.”
Daphne reaches us just then. “What’s going on?” she whispers to Monty as he picks her up and carries her back the way she came. “I was just about to get a bottle of cherry blossom cordial.”
“I’ll pour you a drink in the kitchen.” Monty closes the doors behind us, leaving me alone with William.
My frantic mood begins to calm, and I take in the room with fresh eyes. It boasts the same rich woods as the other rooms in the hotel, the same sprouting chandeliers and elegant furniture. Aside from the billiards table, there are several card tables, a tea table, and a floral-printed couch. The room is vast enough to host a large party, but there isn’t anyone else here. Just William.
The more my anxiety cools, the stronger my suspicion grows. I hug the book to my chest as if it can shield me against any possible pain he might inflict. “Was this another trick? Like with Zane?”
With a weary sigh, he sets his cue on the billiards table and braces his hands on the table’s ledge. His eyes are downcast. “Not a trick.”
“Then where is she?”
Silence. Then, “I couldn’t do it.”
“Why not?”
Finally, he lifts his gaze to mine. “Why do you think?”
I hug the book tighter, then cross the room toward him. When I reach the billiards table, I drop the book on its surface. There’s nothing to shield my heart now. “Why can’t you just say it?”
His jaw tightens before he answers, voice tight. “Because it’s terrifying.”
“Why? Because I’m human?”
He nods. “And I don’t know what to do with this. With whatever we are. I don’t know where it goes from here or if I’m enough. If I’m brave enough.”
The tightness in my chest softens. Unravels. I tap my finger on the book. “When did you write this?”
He doesn’t ask me to clarify. He knows I found his hidden message. “After the elevator. I knew you didn’t get rid of the book. I saw it in your pocket after our Winter Court signing.”
I fold my arms. “You rifled through my things just to get a secret message to me?”
His lips curl with a mischievous grin. He holds my eyes without shame. “Yes.”
My first instinct is to wipe that smug look off his face and chastise him for digging through my bag. But I don’t feel my usual ire. I didn’t come here to argue. “Is it true? What you wrote?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t changed your mind?”
His expression softens. “Why would I change my mind?”
I hug my arms tight to my chest, another protective shield, before I forcibly drop them to my side. “Because I’m stubborn,” I say, voice trembling. “And we’re supposed to be rivals. And I didn’t give you a reason not to go with Aubrey.”
He pushes off the edge of the table and tucks his hands in his pockets. He slowly rounds the corner of the table toward me. “I didn’t need a reason. I wanted one from you, but I already had one of my own.”
My fingers flinch, ready to reach for him. But instead of stopping before me like I expect him to, he heads for the set of double doors. My heart falls, even as his words lift it up.
“I want you, Edwina,” he says over his shoulder, fingertips on one of the handles. “I’m falling for you. That’s my reason.”
“Don’t go,” I say to his back, my voice rich with pleading. “I’ll give you a reason this time. It’s this: I don’t want you to be with anyone else. I don’t want you to kiss or touch or do anything with anyone. Just me.”
His back remains facing me, his fingers still on the handle.
I take a step toward him. “Please stay.”
He shifts to the side and meets my eyes with a soft smile. “I wasn’t leaving, love.”
That’s when I notice the green flowering vines emerging from his palms, twined around the handles and locking them together. That’s when I notice the heat in his gaze. The desire on his face.
He releases the vines and strides my way. When he stops before me, he frames my face with his hands. “But please, beg me to stay again.” His voice is deep and rough, and his touch on my cheeks trembles with restraint.
I tilt my chin and part my lips. “Stay.”
He devours that word with a kiss.