Chapter 30
thirty
ELLIOT
President’s Luncheon
I’ve done a great job of staying invisible. They know me as Valen, but no one really pays me much attention. It’s easy to get lost upstairs, scoping out the bedroom situation. Then, President Harvey’s office. It’s locked. But at least I have time to memorize how many steps it is from the main hall.
Hmm, back library situation near the woods…
A waiter makes a stab in that direction, leaving the door wide open, and I skirt inside like I’m chasing a drink.
With a quick check over my shoulder, I slip on my glove and jimmy the window. It’s too tight, but could work. I pull out some oil from my pocket, then a file, and work on the latch. In just a few seconds, I’ve got it so on the third rattle, it will slide wide open without a sound.
Just as I finish and shove everything back into my pockets, a sharp step echoes from the main party room. I freeze, glancing around for some excuse as to why I’m here…
Drinks. That’s right.
Someone stumbles on the threshold over the rug.
Shit!
I recognize that bag. That hair. Those heels. And those incredible legs…
Olivia fucking Cardell just tripped into the room.
My chest tightens like a noose. Breath halts. Fuck. Fuck. What do I do?
She’s not supposed to be in here. No one is. I chose this window because the caterer uses this side door to sneak smokes and take bribes. No one important ever wanders back here during the president’s luncheons.
Except her.
And for some reason, instead of vanishing like I should, I bend down and help her.
“Sorry!” she blurts, flustered and breathless.
She looks at me—and, fuck me—I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t find a word. Her lip gloss is still wet. Her lashes long. I’m on bended knee in front of this queen, and she smells like my redemption.
This close, she’s real. More real than any of the nights I’ve spent reading her diary. Watching her sleep. Watching her break. Skin practically touching mine. I’m humming to get closer.
“Why?” I ask, before I even know what I’m doing. “Why are you sorry? That fucking rug should be sorry…”
I ramble. Joke. Flirt. I have no idea what comes out of my mouth. But she smiles.
And I know instantly…I’ve gone too far.
She laughs like I’ve never heard before. The trickling, joyous sound stabs me in the ribs and sets something burning inside. My hands are still shaking slightly as I give her the bag, but I stuff them into my pockets like it’s nothing.
“You’re Olivia, right?” Why can’t I stop talking?
Does she recognize me?
If I give her my real name, this whole thing could fall apart. The society and the board know me as Valen Von Dovish. But she can’t know that, or else it’d be like another Abby Meyerson situation. Or she could figure out I’m Vanq, and that, she cannot know about.
Not yet.
Her brother knows… Ryan Cardell figured it out, the fucker. But he hasn’t seen me without my mask. I should be safe there.
“Elliot,” I say quickly, my ears heating. “I’m in your stats class.”
I’m not. Doesn’t matter. I could be… I guess I’m taking that course tomorrow.
She buys it. Flirts back. She’s magnetic and brilliant and far too fucking observant. Notices everything. Even the blush on my cheeks I can’t hide.
But I don’t run.
As I hand her the bourbon, our fingers touch, and my brain short-circuits. Yeah—I’m hard, like an idiot. I lean against the desk to hide my erection, pretending I belong here. Making believe I’m not here for any other reason…
I pretend I’m the kind of guy she could want.
And when the server sneers at me, I offer a smirk. “I’m a rich prick.” It’s not a lie.
That makes her laugh again. And damn it, I’d burn down this whole building to hear it one more time.
When someone calls for her, I think she’ll vanish, and my chest aches to talk with her again. But she glances back. And I raise my glass in silent worship.
She just decimated my entire world and doesn’t even know it.
Turning, I place my hands on the desk and sip deep inhales to clear my head. Guess I’m Elliot to her now. This could work…
What if… What if I could be Elliot around her, but during the day? The dork. Not the one having to deal with the society’s bullshit. The vigilante behind a mask.
What if I could be me around her and she’d still like me?
But…would she accept all of me? Even the dark parts? The ones even I don’t like?
Ten minutes later, I step out and almost lose my shit. She’s cornered by him. Blackwell. Her body goes rigid. Her eyes glaze. Her smile fractures.
I want to kill him on the spot. My fingers twitch. I drift through the crowd, hand already brushing the hilt of the knife in my pocket…
But instead, she lifts his watch. And I exhale. Relief. Awe. Fucking pride. She’s craftier than she even knows. Just needs the right direction to show her how strong she really is.
In the corner of the conservatory, I sip a drink to calm my nerves, and there she is…dropping that monster’s watch into the koi pond.
And for the first time since I was a teenager, I fall fully in love all over again. But this time, it’s for real. I raise my glass as she looks my way, celebrating the moment she evolved.
She has no idea…
But I’ve been waiting years for her to take flight.
Present Day: Valen
Somehow, this beautiful creature chose me. Darkness and all. We catch our breaths after the heated confessions, and I swipe my hair off my sweaty forehead.
With a careful swivel of her neck, she inspects our surroundings. “Home?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
The storm outside picks up, and the wind blasts against a wall until some more stones crumble to the floor, causing her to jump.
“It needs a little work,” I say. She widens her eyes, as if I’ve just made an obvious statement, and I can’t help but hold back a smile.
“But you know how to do masonry, right?”
“Uh, I think my skills are a little rusty.”
“But you make up for it in beauty,” I tell her, brushing back some of her hair.
Still a little cautious, she wanders away a step but drags me with her. “You implied this is, um, mine.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
With a shrug, I answer honestly. “You belong with me. And this is where I live now. Or…hide out. No one knows about it, except my family. It backs up to my parents’ estate. One surrounded by high walls and guard towers. Where we’ll be safe.”
Her eyebrows stitch together with concern. “We’re on Von Dovish land?”
“You say that like you’re in enemy territory.”
“I’ve never met your family. Your father is notoriously absent from the president’s house and several board meetings. My father has discussed him, but his secrecy is legendary.” When her eyes scan my frame, I light up inside. “Like you.”
“We enjoy solitude, he and I. My brothers…my sisters, not so much.”
“And your mother?”
I envision my mom with her AK and machine guns, then chuckle, remembering how skillfully my Monarch took down her target with a knife. “She makes herself known when she needs to…like you.”
She considers my answer for a moment but doesn’t press it. Raising our hands, she points toward the entrance of the chapel. “Want to give me the rest of the tour?”
“Sure.”
Using one of the chambersticks to guide us with a frail light, I take the lead and escort her to the various rooms. A draft blows through the halls, whistling wherever we go.
When we reach the kitchens, she balks at the state they’re in.
“You’ve been hiding out here?”
“Sometimes.”
“It looks like it was in a big fire.”
Casting a glance over the blackened stones, I nod. “It was. A big one back in the day.” I tug her toward the staircase. “Come on. Before you get scared away, I’ll show you what I’ve done for you.”
Now that she’s here…and nearly willing to stay, maybe I can finally begin the restoration.
I could’ve done it years ago. But I waited.
Because I didn’t want to build a home for someone who hadn’t chosen it yet.
I wanted her voice in every room. Her touch in every space. This place isn’t just for her.
It’s ours. Or it will be.
Up the stairs and down the creaky halls, I lead her to an alcove with double doors, then throw them open dramatically.
Her hand clutches her chest. “Oh my god. It’s gorgeous!”
The main bedroom is at the back of a parlor, but I brought a bed in just for us. Topped it with a canopy and string lights, then used some of the overgrown ivy from the grounds to decorate it. Found an old sofa and a folding table with two chairs to make it homey.
“There’s a fridge!”
“Dinner is served,” I tell her, pointing toward the covered dishes lit by a candelabra. The appliances I’d used to reheat the stuff from our chef are hooked into the solar batteries stored beneath the bed.
She must be hungry as she dives for a chair and reveals the meal. “I’ve never had lobster in a ruined mansion.”
“Until now.” I open the chilled bottle of white wine and offer her some, then fill my cup.
The air grows tense for a moment as she pauses with her fork in the air. “I need to tell you something.”
I spread my napkin over my lap and take a swig of my drink, eyeing her nervousness over the rim. “Yes?”
Her breasts rise with a deep breath before she says, “They assigned me to kill you.”
Without knocking over the candle in the middle, I reach across the table and stroke her cheek gently. “I know.”