33. Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
Emma
Well, what am I supposed to do now? I’m stuck in Dacre’s family estate, sharing a room with a man who is betrothed to someone else. It’s not as if I expected things would be different just because we shared some intimate moments. I mean . . . I did hope. But it was only for a second.
Nothing will change him. Dacre is still plagued by the same streak of independence and likely despondence.
When I see him today, I’m going to take an educated guess that he will go back to pretending he hates my existence until he marries that beautiful woman I saw last night.
This is my fault for letting myself get this involved with a man who has done nothing but show his disdain for me.
The image of Dacre sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands comes to the front of my mind, and the pressure of his hand on my foot as he gently rubbed it with his thumb before getting up and flipping on the bathroom light to shower.
People in my world have always been easy to navigate.
Everyone wants something. They have likes and dislikes.
But there’s something vital missing with Dacre.
Does he even know what he wants? It’s like talking to two different people who want different things.
There’s so much I don’t know about him, mostly because even if I baked some cupcakes and asked him nicely, I don’t think he’d tell me.
So maybe he doesn’t hate me, but that doesn’t mean he cares about me. Maybe he does, but I can’t imagine a world in which I am more important than whatever Dacre has going on with his family.
He’s engaged to be married to someone else.
It’s time for me to let go and focus on the real reason I’m here.
Somehow, he’s up before me and gone by the time I open my eyes. The only evidence of him having slept is the blankets moved on his side of the bed and the fresh scent of his shampoo on his pillow from last night.
“Dacre,” I say, meeting him and the others on the top floor of the kitchen.
I hate how clean and perfect his hair looks.
His eyes are bright in the light from the window. “Emma.”
“No nickname or insult?”
“No.”
This isn’t right. Where is the scowl? The gruff, uninterested voice?
“How did you sleep?” Dacre’s eyes stay soft pools of green.
This look. I’ve seen it before, but never from him. It’s the same look my father would give my mother, like the helpless puppy look Parker gives Olivia, literally every morning he has to part from her.
I eye the other students and lower my voice. “Flirting with me while you have a fiancée?”
“It’s a contract I haven’t signed yet, and I don’t know if I will.”
That’s a real answer. Where is my vague, nonsensical answer? Who is this man, and what happened after I fell asleep?
“Are you jealous?” He barely smirks, as if it’s amusing to him to think about, but he doesn’t actually believe it.
“No. I’m not jealous, but if you knew or suspected—”
“I didn’t. It’s a piece of paper. It’s . . . common for people in my family, but I trusted my grandfather to tell me if he ever decided that was the route he wanted to take, and he didn’t.”
“Well, that makes this easier, then. You have your life, and I have mine.”
He nods as if he understands, then says, “You didn’t tell me my grandfather told you about the gala auction.”
“I wasn’t going to accept. Not as if I knew I could trust you enough to tell you.”
“Don’t accept the gala invitation and don’t sign anything.”
“I’m not going to. But maybe I should, just to spite you.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I know you haven’t told me everything. But I wanted to think we were on the same page now that we’re . . . friends. I guess I was wrong.”
“We’re not friends.”
My face falls, and I’m too tired, too worn to catch it.
His brow softens. “Emma, I respect you too much to pretend I can just be friends with you.”
All the air rushes out of me, and it’s seconds till I find it again.
“Wait . . . You . . .”
“All right, class, time to set up. Today’s task: a sudden death cook-off.”
I scramble to compose myself as the instructor comes in and rattles off a list of commands. We’re being split into teams according to a list on the instructor’s clipboard.
“Emma Osborne and Luther Lancaster.”
You’re kidding. As if my day could not get any worse.
No, Emma, snap out of it. This is a great opportunity to refocus on what matters, the culinary club.
And that’s . . . exactly what I want. I totally signed up for ruthless cook-offs.
Not that I’d rather spend the day baking sourdough, admiring the view, and discussing jam and butter pairings or anything.
No. Heart pounding competitive rivalry will be great for this tight ball in my chest.
“Think you can keep up?” Luther says.
“Can you?” I say, tightening my apron.
Dacre and Verity are called as the next pairing, and Verity curls her fingers in a cocky wave.
Find the fun, Emma. Find the fun.
We’re an hour in, and I think I might kill Luther if he mutters another command in my direction. He’s technically my superior, but no one this obnoxious or bad at teaching should be able to order me around like the most important person in all Vviveren.
“Hurry up with those scallions,” he calls just as I place the bowl next to him.
“I was going to start on the risotto.”
“No. I’ve got. Just sit there and look pretty.”
He’s the worst. Any other day, I’d give him a piece of my mind, but I can’t stop imagining walking out on the veranda with a glass of wine and people watching. All morning, there have been businessmen and women walking up and down the driveway.
“Dacre’s parents won’t show up?”
“No . . . Uh . . . Dacre’s parents are dead. Car accident a long time ago.”
I gasp. “Oh, he never said anything.”
Dacre’s parents are dead? I have so many questions, most of which I want to save and ask someone who isn’t Luther. Why wouldn’t Dacre tell me? I mean, when he helped me with Mom’s cake, he could have said something. Maybe he didn’t think he could trust me yet.
“I’m surprised you think you’re close enough to get that kind of information out of him. Dacre is an impenetrable safe. I don’t think even a peppy thing like you can crack it.”
“I guess not.” I try to keep myself busy cleaning up.
“Don’t tell me you thought you’d be friends? Dacre doesn’t have friends. He never has.”
Luther keeps his eyes on his work, and I watch, taking any lessons I can from afar. He’s more informative when he doesn’t talk than when he does.
“How would you know?”
“I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. And trust me, kid Luther all but begged to be his friend.”
“You knew him when he was a kid?”
“Oh, yeah, we went to the same private school. He always kept to himself. I used to think he just thought he was above us all, but I think it’s more about trust. My grandfather and his used to be business partners and best friends, but now they hate each other and think the other betrayed them. Everyone in my family hates him.”
“You don’t hate him?”
He shrugs. “I hate that I can’t beat that fucker in anything.”
He raises his voice, motioning in Dacre’s direction.
“Once I beat him, I will hate him. Until then, I’m unfortunately forced to respect him.”
Sadly, today isn’t the day that happens for either of us.
Verity and Dacre sweep the competition. When I taste their dish, I almost cry. It’s so delicious. We all accept our punishment of serving dinner to Dacre’s family investors and then cleaning up after.
Luther throws dishes into the sink for me and a few others to scrub, and I barely inch out of his way.
I’m ready for the weekend to be over so I can return to the solitude of my own room, blast music, and eat cookies. That’s the only thing that would make me feel better at this point. As much as I love seeing the ocean, I miss the comforting gloom of Doxlothia this time of year.
“We’re having a party in my room tonight. You should come.” Luther leans over the sink on my left.
“The last time you invited me to one of your parties, I was the entertainment.”
“That was different. You’re one of us now.”
My only other option is sitting in a room with Dacre all night, and he’s the last person I want to talk to.
“What if I told you it would piss Dacre off?” Luther adds.
“What makes you say that?”
“I’m not inviting him.”
“Well, that’s just rude.”
“He seems to have a little fascination with you. Don’t you want the opportunity to get under his skin just a little bit?”
He just wants an opportunity to get back at Dacre any way he can for winning today.
I smile, wiping my hands. “Finish my dishes, and I’ll go.”
I know my worth in such an endeavor.
Luther’s eyes narrow. “Deal.”