Chapter 43
Harper
"This place is something." I take in the glass walls of Margot’s roserie—which is a fancy way to say it’s a glasshouse with a rose garden.
Outside, the relentless, cold London rain smears against the glass. Inside, it’s warm and scented with the thick smell of roses, crushed velvet, and damp earth.
Climbing roses crawl up the wrought-iron skeleton framing the glass walls of the conservatory.
There are candles lit at intervals, providing a stunning contrast to the green leaves. Tables and chairs have been set in various locations. Many are already occupied.
The conservatory is attached to a three-story Victorian house, which itself is on one end of Primrose Hill.
The heritage property is a masterpiece of red brick and white stone, soaring above us like a sentinel. Its rows of sash windows are lit from within, casting long, amber rectangles of light across the rain-slicked glass ceiling.
It’s intimidating to step into someone else’s highly-curated space.
"It belonged to the fourth cousin to the King of England until my great-grandfather bought it from him," James offers.
I’ve always known the Hamiltons have money, but this is different. This is the kind of old-world influence that doesn't just buy things; it buys silence, loyalty, and the kind of private school network that creates a wall around people like James.
For heaven’s sake, a butler greeted us at the entrance to the house and took our coats and guided us here.
I shift my weight from foot to foot, trying not to get flustered. I’ve never been more conscious of how different James’ background is from mine.
My pulse quickens.
I’m not the kind to be easily impressed or feel overwhelmed by the trappings of generational wealth, but I’m feeling both today.
I square my shoulders, remind myself that power is just a tool, and wealth is just high-end camouflage. At the end of the day, we’re all born. And we all have to die. Really, we’re the same.
It’s that which gives me the courage to step into his space. My heels click against the stone floor, and I reach up to straighten his tie.
It’s not like his tie needed fixing, but I wanted to remind myself that, beneath the bespoke silk and the Hamilton name, he’s still just James.
He’s the grumpy chef who’s a tyrant in the kitchen. The man most likely to have a vascular event if a chef dared to over-salt the tartar sauce.
He may be ice to most people, but I’m the exact temperature it takes to make him boil over.
He looks at me quizzically. "You okay?"
"Just telling myself I don’t need to be overwhelmed by all this." I gesture to the rose bushes framing us.
Each plant boasts a discreet tag which proclaims that it’s an award-winning specimen at the Royal Horticultural Society’s annual show. I bet the cost to cultivate a single one of these stems likely exceeds my monthly salary.
His features soften. "You absolutely don’t. All this?" He waves a hand in the air dismissing our surroundings. "It’s a carefully curated theater piece designed to make people feel small so we can feel big. It’s just a facade. And the only thing in this room that isn't a lie is you."
I blink. I already know what he said. But to hear it from him? It strikes differently.
His shoulders stiffen. He seems just as surprised that he said those words. But he doesn’t take them back.
I look into those piercing blue eyes. "Except, being your wife is a lie. We are a lie. Right?"
I said it to see his reaction, and because I want to take out some of this frustration I feel for falling for him so deeply. I know I shouldn’t, and it's evident I won’t be able to walk away from this relationship unscathed.
Somewhere, deep inside, I hope he’ll deny it. He doesn’t.
He clenches his jaw. Then a mask slams down over his features, turning his face into that familiar remote mask.
And to think, we were having a moment there, too. For just a few seconds, this relationship felt real. We felt real. And I spoiled it.
But I'm right. We are just an illusion. So why does it feel like I hurt him, and myself, by saying so?
"Harper." My sister opens her arms. "I was wondering what was keeping you."
"Briar." I embrace her. "Didn’t know you were going to be here."
"I asked Margot to invite her and Freya," James says in a toneless voice.
Damn, I should have thought of that. I’m relieved to see a familiar face. Sure, I know Phoenix, and I’ve met a few other members of his family who I know will be here, but it’s great having my sister here, too.
It’s only been three weeks since I moved in with James, but I’m used to seeing her every day, and I miss her.
“Thank you." I half smile at him.
The skin around his mouth softens.
"You’re welcome." He looks past me. "Why don’t you catch up with Briar? I’ll be back in a few."
Without waiting for my reply, he stalks off. Ouch, guess he’s not completely appeased.
"Everything okay?" Briar looks between us.
"Of course." I turn to her.
"Hmm. He seemed a little…abrupt?"
"Oh, that’s James." I shrug, managing to keep my expression relaxed. "He tends to carry the job pressures outside the restaurant. It takes him a while to unwind."
She must accept my explanation, for she nods. "Haven’t heard from you in weeks."
Guilt squeezes my chest. "I’m sooo sorry, it’s been crazy busy. I didn’t even notice how quickly the week passed."
Which is true. It’s been one emergency after another at The Edge, since the ceremony. And except for the foray to the pool where he free dived, both James and I have been working every day.
We eat at the family dinner at The Edge, then it’s onto the dinner service before heading home. We share a drink, talk about the day, which is always nice—then stagger upstairs to our respective rooms.
Since our announcement that first day, James has treated me solely as his employee in the restaurant.
The team has largely behaved. Except for a couple of offhand remarks, which are par for the course, really. I’m surprised there aren’t more. But James’ threat must have worked with them.
One of the uniformed staff comes by, and I accept a glass of champagne.
It’s a relief to be outside the kitchen this evening. I love my job but having to be super-focused day in and day out can take its toll. Then, there's the extra pressure of not making a mistake, knowing the team is watching.
"My brother needs to give you some time off. Not to mention, take you on a honeymoon."
Heat crawls into my cheeks.
The idea had occurred to me. The two of us, alone, somewhere far away. Part of me wants it badly. The other part knows better. Sleep with him and walk away clean— that was the plan.
Except I'm not sure I'm capable of it anymore.
"Aww, you’re blushing." Phe chuckles.
Briar scans my features, and her face lights up. “You have that newly-married glow about you.”
Really? Given we haven’t yet consummated our marriage, it has nothing to do with sex, that's for sure. I stay silent. But Briar doesn’t notice anything amiss.
"I’m going to check on Freya." To my relief, Briar excuses herself.
Phe turns to me, some of the humor fading from her face. "You’re sure my brother’s treating you fine? Because if he’s not—"
"No, really. I’m good." I squeeze her arm, touched by her concern. "It’s been busier than usual at the restaurant."
"How is it with both of you working together, now that you’re married?" She bites her lower lip. "I don’t mean to pry, but I’m genuinely curious."
I consider her question and take my time answering.
"It is a little strange. After all, he was my boss first. And now, he’s more than that. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s a brilliant chef. Every day, I learn more from him. He’s so detailed, so exacting toward his staff that you want to hit him, but somehow, you end up admiring him for it."
I half smile.
"Once we’re in the flow of the day, I forget we have a life together outside the restaurant."
Helped, also, by the fact we’re so exhausted, we barely see each other outside of it.
"Mind you, it’s only been three weeks since our new routine began. But so far, he hasn’t been more obnoxious than usual."
She giggles. "He can be a bear when he’s trying to get his dish just right."
"Did he teach you and your siblings to cook?"
"He tried. I was happy to learn from him, as was my cousin, Lyra, who grew up with us. My brothers? Not so much."
"Is your cousin here?" I glance around the room again.
“Lyra’s studying to be a nun." Her features grow soft. "She and my brother, Lachlan… They’ve always kept a little apart from the family. They knew what they wanted, and each took off when they turned eighteen."
I often wished I had more siblings growing up.
It’s nice that I’m married into a big family, even if this arrangement will, in all probability, not last for more than a year.
My gaze drifts to where James is talking to a group of men.
He’s listening intently to what the men are saying.
He looks so distinguished in his suit, which has definitely been tailored to his specs.
Even now, after working so closely with him all these months, just seeing him in a crowded room makes my pulse speed up and moisture gather between my legs.
"Harper, did you hear what I said?" Phe’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
I bring my attention back to her. "Oh yes, a tour of the house. I’d like that."
I’ve seen Phe’s parents’ home, but not her grandmother’s place.
I’m hoping seeing the house that was a part of his childhood will give me more insight into James.