Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Stephan
T he wait in the Gardeners’ sitting room is excruciating, even though Mrs. Gardener serves me tea and offers me cake. My thoughts have been a little preoccupied since the night of the Hargrave party, club Yin, kiss in the dark.
I don’t regret much in my life, but kissing Violet purposefully in front of Heath and the Monarch’s men? Not my smartest move. But thinking about losing her, thinking that might be the last time I could have her to myself…
There’s no excusing it. Now I’ve fucked this up for the both of us.
Even more so when I had decided to confess to Sophine our plans. To be fair, she was threatening me and Violet with banishment and estrangement, the same thing she did when she’d found out about my relationship with CeeCee. I couldn’t care less—I’ve built my own life away from Sabine and my family’s connections. But Violet? Her family is everything to her.
It would devastate her.
So I told the battle-ax everything.
And when she had asked me to tell her the truth about my feelings for Violet…I told her that, too.
Violet perplexes me. I think about her too much. I always catch myself staring, noticing the little things about her—how she worries her lip when she’s overthinking or scrunches her nose when she doesn’t like something. When she looks at me, really looks at me, I feel…different. Off-balance. And when she’s gone, I’m restless.
I don’t know what that means, if our act has only confused things more, but I found myself rambling when answering Sophine’s question. I like her, I settled on, which is true. And when given the chance to answer the same question, Violet had told Sophine the same about me.
But like is a far cry from wanting a mark , and that’s exactly what she’s forcing us to do.
“No, thank you,” I say to Mrs. Gardener as she holds out a plate of freshly baked oatmeal cookies. My stomach is doing somersaults. I hadn’t slept a wink last night, either.
Heath sits in an armchair reading something on his tablet but makes sure to stop every few seconds to glare at me.
Dick .
Tradition says I’m going to have to ask his permission to claim Violet as my mate, before marking her. I know he’s itching to get me alone to either try his hand at beating the shit out of me or find out what happened last night when the Monarch sent him out of the room. Maybe both.
But I need to talk to Violet first. It’s why I walked into the lion’s den today to take Violet out to dinner for a moment alone with her.
With her heat so close, it’s risky, but as long as I don’t touch her, I should be able to curb my primal urges.
I’ve wondered why I seem to be the only Alpha who’s being so affected by her heat cues, but my guess is that it has something to do with the fact that I can smell her, even with the blockers on. And, as she confessed to Sophine, she can smell me too.
I’ve never heard of something like this happening before.
Dahlia plays a somber song on the piano, while Mari doodles in her sketchbook on the couch across from the fireplace. Next to her, Rue scrolls on her phone mindlessly while taking bites of a cookie.
The only ones missing from this family reunion are Iris and Violet.
The doorbell rings, and Rue’s up and racing off to answer it before anyone else can. A moment later, she comes in with the biggest bouquet of delicate purple and white flowers—lavender, roses, carnations, snapdragons—and my blood goes cold.
The piano stops as Dahlia turns to look. Even Mari glances up from her sketchbook.
“O.M.G., they’re for Violet!” Rue squeals, reading the little note on the wrapping.
“Oh, they’re gorgeous, Stephan,” Mrs. Gardener says.
Something shrivels within me .
I clear my throat. “They’re not from?—”
“From someone called Dominic.” Rue glances at me. “Who’s that?”
Heath’s grin is slow and toothy. “It’s a very nice Alpha who’s interested in Violet. He met her at the Hargrave party and has been hounding me to schedule a date with her.”
Fucking asshole.
Stockton’s a wet paper bag. And Heath’s an asshole.
Rue drops the princess’s flowers on top of the piano, much to Dahlia’s dismay.
“Oh, and there’s this.” Iris walks in with Quinn. They’re both struggling to hold a basket filled with violets, wine, and assorted crackers and cheeses. “That Dominic fellow sent this too.”
Overkill.
Rue pulls out a card and begins to read. “It says, ‘Beauty for the b?—’”
Iris snatches the card and shoves it back in the basket. “It’s Violet’s. Not yours.”
As Iris and Quinn drop the basket near the piano, Rue whirls on me. “What did you get her?” she asks.
“Dinner with me at the best restaurant in Sabine,” I say.
“Mickey’s Burger Joint?”
“No, kid, grown-up stuff. Better than flowers.”
“It better not be too grown-up,” Heath grumbles, but I catch it, and the unspoken threat.
“When is Vi coming down?” Rue groans. “It’s taking forever. ”
“Hush,” Mrs. Gardener says.
“I’m here.” Violet’s there in the doorway, gaze dragging over everyone in the room until finally resting on me. There’s a smile there, but it’s forced, masking the stress simmering underneath. The dress she wears is a simple shift of high-necked netting with a lower cut beneath. The green, gold, and violet hues make her skin almost luminous. Her hair is curled and piled up high with curls falling all around her face, where touches of gold glitter are dusted on her cheeks, and I’m struck dumb by how absolutely gorgeous she looks. Less like a sheltered princess and more like a vixen.
“Vi! Look at what Dominic sent you!” Rue points to the bouquet and basket. “Aren’t they beautiful!”
She barely looks at them and nods. “Very much so.”
“I already volunteered to chaperone tonight,” Iris says. “Gonna make sure there’s nothing else for Queen Bee to write about these two lovebirds.”
Heath pushes to his feet. “Like hell you are. Chaperones aren’t supposed to be single or young. I’ll do it.”
She meets his stare head on and crosses her arms over her chest. “Like you’re neither of those things, too? Or is it allowed because, what? Because you’re an Alpha? I don’t think so. I’ll be chaperoning.”
“Are you sure, Iris?” Violet whispers. “You hate this stuff.”
She shrugs. “I got nothing else to do. And besides, I’m starving.” She shares a look with Quinn and something secret passes between them. “See you later, Quinn.”
The Beta waves, her smile pleasant. “Until next time, Gardeners.” She turns to Heath. “ Heather. ” Then she’s gone.
Heath grunts. “Betas. ”
I’ll take Iris over Heath chaperoning us any day, so I stand, take Violet by the hand, and walk with her to the door before Heath tries to fight harder against it.
Petit Fleur is one of the best restaurants in Sabine, with a top culinary chef and world-renowned patissiers. It’s romantic, hard as hell to get a reservation for, and full of the well-to-do. Even the Monarch is known to visit once in a blue moon.
I’ve never taken any of my flings here—too public for the high-end of society—but that’s just the reason I picked it. It’s my attempt to put some of the hurtful rumors on Stitch to rest.
Why?
Why do I care what people are whispering behind my back? I don’t. Not for myself, anyway. But for Violet? That’s a different story. I know she cares, and since I’m partly to blame for the mess she’s in, I feel obligated to offer her some peace.
I’m still trying to figure out how to get around the Monarch’s mating ultimatum.
One thing at a time.
When we arrive at Petit Fleur, every single eye is on the three of us as the ma?tre d’ takes us to the table I requested, nestled in the back corner for privacy. But before we sit, Iris pretends to shiver and makes a show of it.
“Hey, Mr. Fancy-pants,” she says. “It’s a bit chilly back here under the vent. Do you think you have another spot for me where I won’t turn into a solid block of ice? ”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want me to find you a different table for the evening?” the ma?tre d’ asks, holding the menus to his chest.
“No, no. Not them. Just me. I’m the one with the cold blood.”
It’s obvious what she’s doing—trying to give us the space and privacy we need right now while still following the chaperoning rules. Loosely following them, that is.
“Absolutely.” After setting down our two menus, the ma?tre d’ gestures for her to follow him, but before she goes, she glances at us.
Violet mouths “thank you” and Iris winks before walking off to a table across the room.
We take our seats.
Eyes and a few heads shift our way, and I notice a tremor that passes through Violet.
“We need to talk,” I start in a soft tone. “And thanks to your sister, we can. Make sure you tell her I owe her one.”
“She’ll hold you to that,” Violet says, “but she knows I’ve been…struggling, so…”
“Did you tell her about?—”
“No. She thinks it’s just normal Season drama. And I’d like to keep it that way, but she’s very perceptive. She knows when things are getting too much for me.”
“She is your sister,” I say.
“Yeah, but I’ve always been really good at hiding things. Especially about myself.” She looks down at the menu in front of her. “I guess I’m not as good at it as I thought. Things are slipping through now. First the near panic attack at the ball, then the fainting. The nights without sleep. ”
“It’s a lot, I know. And now the Monarch is trying to force us to mate.”
“Your aunt, you mean.”
I nod. “It’s an unfortunate truth.”
“You don’t like her?”
“I know you might disagree with me here, but blood doesn’t always mean family,” I say. “Sophine has always caused me more grief than anything else. Penrith is my family. That’s all I need.”
A waiter comes, recites the specials. We both order the duck, and I order an expensive bottle of wine before he shuffles off and we’re alone again.
“Why did you kiss me again?” she asks out of nowhere, and I nearly choke on my next breath.
“Kiss you?”
“Yeah, like that. Like you were trying to prove something.”
I lick my lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She sighs. “It doesn’t matter. Because of it, the Monarch is forcing you to mark me, for us to mate.”
The misery on her face is hard to ignore. It tugs at my pride. “Would being my mate be that bad?” I ask. “You told the Monarch you like me.”
Her cheeks redden in a slight blush. “I do. You haven’t given me any reason not to like you.”
I don’t know why, but that stings. When she had told Sophine that she liked me, I thought she meant more than…like an acquaintance.
“But to be mated with someone who doesn’t want to be mated to me? That’s not the life I want for myself. ”
Ah.
“But you’re okay with being mated to someone you don’t love.”
“You’d rather not be mated at all,” she replies with a biting edge.
I look around at the neighboring tables, but everyone seems too engrossed in their meals to be paying us any attention.
“Listen. The Monarch’s clearly doing this to get back at me for…for not always bowing to her whim.” I almost slip up there and resurrect something I want to keep buried. “I’ve been thinking of a way to get us out of it.”
“Have you come up with anything?” she asks.
“Not yet. But I’ll think of something.”
She frowns. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this hidden. Especially from Heath. He always shoulders everything. I try but he’s carrying the house, all of us.”
“He probably would say the same thing about you.” Actually, I know he would. He has.
She doesn’t answer that. Instead, she circles back to the main conversation. “We don’t have much time before the next event. The Monarch’s going to want to see a mark…”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want this ruining anything I may have with Mr. Stockton.”
The mention of that man is like a slap to the face. “You’re still considering him?”
“Of course I am.”
The waiter comes with the wine. He uncorks the bottle and begins to pour us each a generous glass. I chug all of mine before he’s done pouring Violet’s, and with wide eyes, he refills mine .
When he leaves, Violet continues, “His interest is real. This—” she waves her hand between us “—isn’t.”
“You know nothing about him,” I argue.
“I know nothing about you,” she counters.
Well, fuck. She got me there.
I take a sip of the wine, wishing I had ordered myself something stronger. “What do you want to know?”
She rubs her lips together and looks over to where her sister sits eating an assortment of mini quiches. When her gaze comes back to mine, she says, “Did you always want to be an actor?”
Standard interview question. One I’ve answered thousands of times before. But the question now is do I give her my rehearsed interview answer or the truth?
The truth is more boring, but…
“No. I wanted to be a writer,” I say.
“Like writing books?”
I shake my head. “Not specifically books, no. I always liked plays, scripts, that sort of thing. But apparently my face is meant to be in front of the camera. Not behind it. So I took the opportunity and ran with it.”
She perks up, sitting up in her chair. “Do you still write?”
“Not as much as I used to,” I confess. “It’s hard to when shooting days are so long, and then there’s rehearsals, and public appearances.”
“I would have never guessed a writer. And are these scripts romances like your movies?”
“The complete opposite, actually. Dramas.”
“Like…soap operas?” She laughs, trying to conceal it by covering her mouth .
“Hey. Nothing wrong with soap operas. I co-starred in a couple of them.” When she continues to laugh, a light-hearted, airy sound, I take her hand away from her mouth and place it on the table between us.
“You really don’t watch TV much, do you?”
“Sorry.” Her gaze drops to my hand covering hers, and we both pause. A single touch. The one thing I told myself I wouldn’t do, and here we are.
And as expected, the simple connection is like a zap right to my cock, my body instantly being able to sense her heat and wanting to rut.
“I hate to break up this little love-fest.” Iris is there beside our table suddenly, looking grim. “But the Monarch has just entered the building and is about to sit just a stone’s throw away. I suggest we cut this short.”
A quick glimpse around Iris to the large round table on the opposite side of the room confirms what she said. Sophine, dressed in a navy pantsuit and matching hair brooch, walks over to it, with Fredrick and two security guards in tow. When she sits, her gaze fixes on me, and she presses two fingers to her neck then taps her wrist.
It’s a warning.
I don’t have much time to give Violet a mark.
Bitch.
I stand. “Yeah. It’s time to go.”