Chapter 23
RAINE
Ismooth down the front of my sensible pants—trousers, as they call them here.
I put on and took off five different shirts.
I wanted to wear a sweater, but even in the cool castle it’s still warm.
Or maybe that’s just me. I’ve got the jitters, like I’m going on my first date back in high school.
Only this time there’s no glaring from my father to be had.
And it’s not a date. It’s dinner, and I’m supposed to eat dinner.
Ugh, sometimes I hate my brain. It’s not a date. Just dinner. In the dining room. Stop it, Raine. Wren tells me all the time that my brain is a chronic liar. That I need to tell it to cut it out.
I step into the dining room. It’s set for three tonight. Guess Leo must think there’s no chance of Kieren showing up.
Roark’s here. He’s wearing a dark button-up shirt. And the sleeves are unfortunately not rolled up. I push back my lustful thoughts, trying to get his arm candy out of my brain.
Roark stands when I come in. “Good evening, Duchess.”
“Hi.” The candles flicker as Roark rounds the table and pulls out my chair for me.
“Thank you.” I didn’t wait once, earlier this week, and it became a three-way tug of war with the steward, Evander, and me.
Grandma always said if a man wants to help you with your chair, let him have at it.
Win the big power struggles. Then again, she was five-foot-nothing and her feet barely hit the floor from a dining room chair.
“You’re always welcome.” Roark’s warm presence surrounds me and leaves me with a shiver as he moves back to his seat.
I nod to Evander’s empty seat at the end of the table. Not a date, I remind myself.
“He’ll be along shortly.”
I’m bobbing my head still. I’ve been thinking of ways to broach the subject. I wish I could just let it be. “Did you have a nice afternoon?” The steward fills my water glass, and I hope I’m not breaking an etiquette rule, but I decline the offered wine.
“Yes, I did. It was nice doing some physical tasks,” Roark says.
“You sit mostly at a computer?” I realize that I don’t know much about what he does. Chief of Security, he told me when we met. But Leo calls him one of the gentlemen. And the staff I do see seem to treat him like they do Kieren.
“Here, yes. At home . . . I’m a bit more on the move at home.”
This isn’t the first time they’ve talked about the castle not being home. “Where is home?” I take a sip of my water.
He shakes his head. “I suppose this is home now. We’ve spent a lot of time here for the last ten years. Home is where you hang your . . .”
“Hat?” I suggest with a laugh.
“I don’t wear hats.” He’s not going to answer my actual question.
“I suppose leather jacket works, then.”
“And did you? Have a good afternoon, that is?”
“Yes. Thanks for your help. I was able to give the area where the cabinets are going to go a good scrubbing. It’s amazing how much dust has accumulated since the collection was put in there last month,” I say lightly, waiting for a reaction.
Will he tell me why the collection was moved in there?
From where? And more importantly, why? I want to know.
It doesn’t matter, but my darn curiosity won’t leave it alone.
Or will this be another thing that he brushes aside with a clever comment?
“You are indeed smart.”
I lean back in my seat. Weird how that phrase can be both praise and an attack. “Thank you?”
“It’s a compliment. Where we had the collection stored, I’m told, wasn’t good for it. My dragon doesn’t agree, but seeing what you’ve done, Kieren was right.”
I’m trying to picture what he’s talking about. Where could they have had the collection that’s worse than where it is now? More windows and stone floors? A hot attic? A leaky basement?
“This is killing you . . . I can see it on your face.” There’s a twitch in his neck. “You’ll have to trust me. It’s better off in the vault—the old banquet room is far superior.”
I’d really hoped he’d take the bait and give me a real answer.
But then, I suppose you don’t become a billionaire dragon shifter without being able to spot someone fishing for information.
“It will be after tomorrow. After the cabinets, I’m going to work on improving the lighting.
I just wish I could be here to see the cabinets installed. ”
“Right, Leopold mentioned something about a quick trip to Zurich,” Roark says.
Evander bounds into the room. “Who’s going to Zurich?”
“Raine is, though Leopold didn’t mention why to me.” Roark turns to me.
Evander settles himself at the table. A steward flows out of the pantry and fills his wine glass. “A day trip to Zurich. Sounds like fun.”
“Definitely not fun. I’ve been called in for them to look at my paperwork.
Leo says it was the only day he could get for me, and you know the cabinets are being installed tomorrow.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he found my error and was able to get me an appointment before they kicked me out of the country for not filing the right form. ”
“Sounds like good timing, then. Bureaucracy can be so uptight about their paperwork.” Evander leans back and stares at Roark.
“I wanted to be here to make sure the art is protected. And that the cabinets are installed correctly.”
“Leopold will handle those details,” Evander says.
“I know. He said he would. It’s just, I would feel better if I were here.” I take a sip of my water.
Roark glances to Evander. The hairs on the back of my neck go up, like there’s a charge in the air. The way the two of them glance at each other, though? I’m missing something. I’ve never liked secrets—they drive me crazy—and it feels like this place has enough to fill every room in the castle.
“Leopold is a perfectionist. He’ll make sure the art is protected and the installation goes off without a hitch,” Evander says.
I nod. But it doesn’t make me feel better.
Three courses in, when I’m cutting my steak, I ask myself why I ever stayed in my room instead of coming down for dinner. Well, fear, shame, lust . . . I guess those are three reasons. Not necessarily good ones.
“I’m glad to see you eating, Raine. I was concerned by you not taking dinner.” Evander cuts a chunk of steak and eats it.
“I’m still learning about afternoon tea . . . It’s so good I find it hard to stop eating.” I smile, hoping he buys my lame excuse.
“Ah, yes. Has Leopold brought you any Nusstorte? They’re my favorite pastries,” Evander says, taking another big bite. His steak is one chest compression away from coming back to life.
“No, are they good?”
“Life-changing. We’ll have to make sure he does . . . well, I guess not tomorrow.”
“No, not tomorrow.” I do my best not to sigh. I stretch my foot out, and it bumps Evander. “Sorry.” I pull my legs back quickly.
He laughs. “I’m not opposed to playing footsie under the table.”
It should make me uncomfortable, but instead it just turns me on. There’s heat rising up to my cheeks. I’m glad we’re eating by candlelight. Hopefully, they can’t see how much I’m blushing, but they’re dragon shifters, so . . .
“Are you going to do anything after the boring bureaucracy?” Evander asks.
“Oh, no. I want to come back as fast as possible. I’m hoping I can catch at least the end of the installation.
” I place my fork and knife together on the plate, with the fork tines facing up and the knife blade facing inward, something I learned from Sunday dinners at my grandparents’ house.
I never thought it would be useful. But unlike Wren, I enjoyed dressing up and eating off of grandmother’s best China.
“Well, there’s a lot to see in Zurich. You should take the day,” Roark says. “Leopold’s got it.”
I nod and smile because, unlike Wren, I’m not a go-exploring-on-my-own kind of gal. “I guess. I’ll think it over tonight. Speaking of which . . . I’m going to head to my room. I have some paintings I want to research.”
“Or you could relax,” Evander says.
“Working is how I relax.” I put my napkin on the table.
Evander laughs. “You remind me of Kieren.” He stands and helps with my chair.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not bad, just—”
“Frustrating,” Roark answers for Evander.
“Well . . . I don’t know what to say. I like what I do, and I want to do a good job at it.” I’ve always been a good student. People pleaser, Wren’s voice says in my head.
“Kieren says that too. But I don’t buy it from him, either.” Evander walks me out. Roark does too. But they both stop at the bottom of the stairs.
“Have a good night, Duchess,” Roark says when I’m halfway up.
“Good night.” I wave back, feeling way too much like the little girl from The Sound of Music, the one who falls asleep on the grand stairs of the manor.
I rush by the spot that got me in trouble last week.
I don’t need to be pondering their secrets any more than I am already.
I just need to get the work done, save as much money as possible, and build my resumé.
And most of all, stop thinking about my hot bosses.
Leo might call them the gentlemen, but they are anything but.