Chapter 31 #2
“You have no idea what men like Gage are capable of, do you?” Catherine exhaled, a breathy, haughty sigh, like she was speaking to someone naive. “They take their time when something is fragile. When they don’t want to break it too soon.”
A pause. Immaculately timed.
“Gage is more than you think he is.” The words were honey, delivered like lead. “His choices are always the right ones.”
A smile crept over Bea’s lips. “Maybe he wanted something different. Since he had every chance to choose what was…expected…and didn’t.”
The finger Catherine tapped on her glass stilled, just for a blink.
One for me.
Catherine recovered. “Everyone’s allowed a chapter. That doesn’t make it the conclusion.” Then a final, soft blow. So light it barely felt like a strike at all. “Surely you know,” she said pleasantly, “Kings don’t end up with guests.” She inclined her head before disappearing back into the crowd.
Bea exhaled slowly. Her lungs ached, like she’d just surfaced from deep water.
And the worst of it was, something traitorous inside her whispered that Catherine might be right.
“You look like you need rescuing.”
The voice, low and mildly amused, pulled her out of her thoughts.
She turned.
Rafael Griffin.
He stood close enough that she could feel the faint heat of him, hands in his pockets, collar undone like the night barely deserved him. His brown hair was casually raked back, green eyes glinting.
Three months. Since she last spoke to him at the courts, when she’d intended to reproach him and somehow ended up burned instead. He hadn’t reached for her since, hadn’t given her reason to think he would.
Catherine had been a vacuum: airless, dark, and suffocating. Rafael’s presence was the opposite. Restless energy and warmth. It felt like breathing again.
Right now, it was welcome.
Bea felt the tension in her shoulders slipping, before she reminded herself not to relax around him. “What are you doing here?”
“You forget I’m a Griffin,” he said, like the answer was obvious. “Mind if I stay?”
It was a courtesy, not a question.
She glanced about. Gage was somewhere in the room. She scanned the crowd, though she already knew she wouldn’t find him. And here was Rafael. Close. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t have mattered, but did.
“Please.”
He moved closer, voice lowering like they were sharing a secret. “Feeling sufficiently observed?”
She felt the brush of his words against her skin, palpable enough to leave a mark if she let them. “I’d prefer to be insufficiently observed.”
Rafael’s gaze outlined her collarbone, her shoulders, the line of her waist. She held herself very still, resisting the urge to shift. “Then you came in the wrong dress.”
She motioned to the silk and satin surrounding them. “Pretty sure every woman here did, too.”
He leaned in. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been looking at one.”
Her pulse fluttered in her throat. She couldn’t let him have the last word. “Must be a slow night for you.”
He smirked. “Trust me, I’m not bored.”
She needed a safe subject. One with no potholes.
She faced forward, then asked, “Do you come to these things often?”
He almost grinned, but he let her shift the conversation, mimicking her stance. “Only when necessary. And sometimes not even then,” he replied. “Enjoy the Regatta?”
Her smile came easily as the picture of that perfect day sprang to mind. Banners, sunlight and school spirit, on the shores of a glistening river.
“I loved it,” she gushed. “It was so much fun.” She turned to him, unthinking. Genuine. “You made it look effortless.”
For a moment, Rafael just looked at her. Like maybe the night had finally offered him something worth staying for. “It was. We always win.” He said it like it was written somewhere—an unchangeable fact of the universe.
“That’s what Gage said.”
One brow lifted. “What else does Gage say about me?” The question curled around his mouth like a dare.
Bea should have said something dismissive. Something clever. But under the sudden intensity of his gaze, the words scattered.
And suddenly, none of them felt safe.
His eyes flicked past her shoulder. Something in his expression sharpened. “Storm’s coming.”
Her brows pulled together. “What?”
And then she saw him. Nate West, making his way through the crowd in an unhurried, straight path toward her. She’d only met him once before, at the Regatta.
The timing was too ideal to be accidental.
Of course Gage had seen.
And whether he had asked Nate to come, or whether Nate had taken the initiative himself, it didn’t matter. There was nothing to see here. Except…maybe there was.
Nate arrived, and Rafael flashed him a laconic smirk. Like he’d been expecting an interruption and was almost disappointed it took this long.
“Bea,” Nate said, politely smiling.
Bea smiled back, careful, mannerly. “Hello.”
“Griffin.” Nate’s eyes cut to Rafael, resting on him for a beat too long, like a man ensuring the message was received.
Rafael acknowledged him with a nod. “Sent on an errand, West?”
Nate ignored that, and turned back to Bea. “Just thought you wouldn’t want to miss your cue.”
“Is Gage done?” she asked.
“Almost. I can take you to him.”
Bea smoothed a hand over her gown, nodding once. “Thank you.”
As she turned, Rafael’s voice followed, pitched low for her alone. “Summoned.”
“Don’t cause trouble,” she warned softly.
“No promises,” Rafael whispered.
It felt too soon to leave. Like she hadn’t quite finished standing her ground. Or maybe she didn’t altogether mind being in his warmth.
But she let Nate guide her away.