23. Fucking legend
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
fucking legend
AIDEN
“Henry, you’re following us?” I ask, grinning as widely as I can. He pauses, blinking at me, and just like in the tent, his attention flits to my hand gripping Linnea’s waist. My Linnea, is what this hand tells him.
She’s got her well-practised poker face on again, and I miss the natural smile she shared with me earlier. And that laugh. Fucking hell, I could listen to that on repeat for the rest of my life.
I made her laugh so hard she cried.
The day could have ended after that first croquet match and it would’ve been a success.
Except, I do have one more thing on my bucket list, and it’s being served on a platter for me now.
“Harriet, I presume?” I ask, reaching out my free hand to his fiancée. “Aiden Aurellan.”
“How do you do?” she says. Oh, she’s so stiff. Her hand is bony and cold. How the hell did he choose this polished statue over the vivacious woman next to me? I’m selfishly glad he did, though, because it’s me she’s leaning into now, even if it’s fake from her side.
“Are you playing?” I ask them.
“We’ll go after you.”
“Shall we play against each other?”
“What, Aiden, no—” Linnea protests, but I turn and give her a reassuring look.
Trust me.
“Couple against couple?” Henry asks.
“Or one on one?” I suggest. “A short game. Six hoops, first to the peg wins.”
“Um…” Linnea shuffles next to me, but Harriet lets out a sigh of relief.
“It won’t take long, darling,” Henry assures her, and shakes off his grey blazer, handing it to her. “How about we make it interesting?”
“How do you mean? Croquet is pretty interesting in and of itself, isn’t it?”
Henry scoffs and smirks. “Thousand pounds?”
Pocket money.
I shrug. “I’ll do you one better. If you lose … you send an official note to everyone you’ve spread shit about Linnea to and tell them you were wrong and LEAF Design is still the award-winning studio it was before you tore it apart.”
Henry shifts. “And if I win? When I win.”
“Then I will personally write you a recommendation letter to your top three picks.”
He laughs. A hollow, disgusting laugh. It’s so hard to believe Linnea ever fell for this man when I see him like this. When I know what I know about him.
“Fine, let’s just play then,” I say, hoping he’ll do as I want. “For fun, if you’re able to.”
“No, no, I’ll take your wager,” he says, just as I thought.
I turn to Linnea, and her eyes are wide. “Aiden, what are you doing? Were you just joking when we played earlier? Are you some croquet expert after all?”
I shake my head and lean in, pretending to give her a kiss on her cheek, and instead I whisper in her ear. “You are.”
“What?”
“You’re going to play him and win.”
“You’re insane! What if it was a lie?”
“I know it wasn’t, you’re a ninja for sure. Don’t worry. I’ve got one thing I’ll do before you play, but you need to promise me something.”
“What?”
“Have fun beating the shit out of your bastard ex and making him look like an angry little toddler in front of everyone.”
I hand the croquet mallet to Linnea, but when she grabs it, I hold on and pull her flush to me, pinning her against my body. My mouth an inch from hers, her breath is on my skin. I won’t kiss her until I’m sure she really wants to do it again. But I need to give her something.
I plant a soft kiss just on the corner of her mouth, and down her jawline to her ear. “You’re fucking extraordinary.”
She inhales sharply, tilting her head against mine. Pressing myself closer, I kiss her delicate neck before I let her go.
Panting, she blinks at me, touching a hand to the side of her neck. I grin and turn to wish the opponent a great round of croquet.
“Henry, good luck,” I say, stretching out my hand. He seems confused, glancing to Linnea behind me and back to me.
“I thought we were playing.”
“Me playing croquet? Hah, I’m fucking terrible. You’re playing against her.” I gesture with a thumb behind me, still waiting for him to accept my handshake.
He slowly reaches out and grasps my hand, as firmly as he can.
“Your funeral.” He sneers. “She’s never won against me.”
“I’m sure she’s never shown you how good she is.”
At this, his jaw flexes and it’s clear he’s worried I’m right.
“So,” he starts, still trying to squeeze my hand. “How does it feel knowing I’ve seen every inch of your new girlfriend? There’s nothing you will experience that I haven’t already.”
Oh, Henry… I was kind of hoping you’d go there.
I grip his hand harder, but I could actually break it, so I hold back. Just a little. His jaw flexes again, but there’s a sneer forming on his face. He thinks he got me there.
I lean in closer to his ear, intentionally looming over him.
“That’s a new low even for you, Henry. Where this hand—” I squeeze again, and he lets out a stifled grunt.
“—goes tonight, that’s private, but I want you to remember how it felt on Halloween last year.
How it stung and burned as I pulled you away by your ear like a little boy.
” Henry attempts to yank his hand back, but I hold him tight, keeping my voice low in his ear.
“I banned you from The Orion quietly, but unless you stop the slandering you’re doing, I’ll make sure you’re officially banned from all of Mayfair.
” I pull back and look him in the eye. “Maybe your future father-in-law can save you from that, but he’s not here to play for you. ”
Henry clears his throat, and before he can say anything poisonous or call me on my bluff, I push back.
“Your funeral,” I growl. Then I say, louder now, “Go swing that big mallet of yours, Henry. Show us what you can do with those skilful hands.” The sarcasm couldn’t be more obvious, and I hear Linnea cough behind me.
“You can start, Henry,” Linnea says, and as she moves up next to him, she shrinks into herself. Her shoulders round, and she lowers her head. It’s subtle, but obvious to me.
Shit. Stay strong, Linnea.
“I don’t need any favours. The weaker player always starts,” Henry answers, straightening up.
The comment seems to shift something in Linnea, and she does the same. When she straightens, she’s his height, short by an inch only.
He’ll regret ever underestimating her.
A crowd has gathered around the croquet field, Venetia and her group included.
I hope this doesn’t make Linnea nervous.
I may have been arrogant in my bet, considering I know nothing of Henry’s skills.
But I recognise his type. I’ve hurt his ego, hopefully put him on edge with my impromptu threat, and when he sees Linnea owning the field, he’ll get increasingly distracted.
Linnea and Henry line up their balls by the starting peg.
She has to hit her ball through six hoops and then knock the final peg.
With every hoop earning an extra shot, I’m hoping she can make it far without Henry getting a single turn.
But from this angle, with how the hoops are lined up, it’s hard to see how she’ll pull it off. I sure as hell wouldn’t.
Linnea knocks her ball through the first hoop, receiving a smattering of applause, but considering it’s close to the starting point, it would have been odd to miss it. Unless you hit it like I did, of course.
Now, she steps around her ball, and it looks like… Is she about to hit it backwards?
She does, clipping Henry’s ball.
I step closer to one of the observers.
“Do you know the rules? What’s she doing?”
“When you hit the opponent’s ball you get two extra shots, and she can do a croquet shot.”
“What’s a croq—” I’m about to ask but stop short when she lines her ball up next to Henry’s, and while Henry’s knuckles turn white around the handle of his mallet, Linnea knocks her ball so hard into his, it sends Henry’s flying into the taller grass by the edge while hers rolls slowly and lines up with the next hoop.
The crowd cheers, and Linnea turns to me with the widest grin.
Flawless. This woman is a fucking legend.
She knocks the ball through the next hoop, and the next, the crowd cheering more each time. I hold my breath as she angles herself to knock it through the second-to-last hoop, and Henry is trying to break the wooden mallet in his grip. Although he’d sooner hurt himself with those little hands.
Without hesitation, Linnea hits her ball through the last two hoops and slams it into the final peg to a roaring cheer from the crowd, and in my side-vision Henry’s mallet goes flying across the field, but I only have eyes for Linnea.
She swivels on the spot, and I run to her as she lifts her mallet over her head.
“Whooohooo!”
When I reach her I grab her by the waist and swing her around, and she squeals before she drops the mallet to the ground and wraps her arms around my neck. My face is wedged in her chest and I might be overstepping, so I let her slide down my front, but without letting go.
“That was nothing short of phenomenal.”
“Told you I’m a croquet ninja.”
“I didn’t doubt it for a second.”
Her eyes dart to my mouth and up again, her smile faltering for a second. “Thank you, Aiden.”
“My pleasure.”
“No, really.”
“I’m serious too. I took a lot of pleasure in that.”
She laughs, shaking her head, and leans into the crook of my neck. I tighten my arms around her.
“Let’s go,” she says.
“Already?”
“Yeah, it can’t get better than this.”
“We didn’t even get tipsy,” I say, releasing my grip when I feel her letting go of me.
“So let’s go get tipsy without an audience. I just want to hang out with you.” Somehow she looks surprised by her own words, so I wait for a moment, letting her change her mind if she wants to.
“Without an audience…” I start, glancing down at her mouth as she nibbles on her lower lip. Without an audience, I won’t have a reason to touch her according to our rules.
“Aiden!” someone calls from somewhere behind us. We both turn to find Katrina Starre running towards us. What the hell does she want?
“Aiden, tell me now,” Linnea whispers. “What’s going on with you two? I saw you talking to her before. Please tell me if you’d rather—”
I put a finger to her lips. Fuck, they’re so soft.
“Don’t even think that thought.”
I hold her gaze for a beat, until we can no longer ignore the woman trudging across the lawn.
Katrina’s running is not so much running as it is sinking her heels into the grass and pulling them out again with great effort. We stand by, watching as her heels gather more grass and dirt with each step.
“That’s impressive,” Linnea says, smirking, cocking a brow.
I glance down at Linnea’s choice of footwear.
“Wedges,” she says, tilting her foot to emphasise. “Wearing heels to a lawn party is a rookie mistake.”
Katrina stops in front of us, sweating and panting, but standing tall, as if she doesn’t have a good chunk of royal lawn on her stilettos.
“Could I ask you to do an interview?” she asks, eyes flicking between us. “I’m trying to get into celebrity news and I’ve got a pass to the VIP lounge in the corner.”
Linnea and I exchange a glance but I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
“It’s pretty flash—Gisbon Lux gift bags and all,” Katrina singsongs.
With my arm around Linnea’s waist I sense her body tensing, just ever so slightly. Does this mean she’s uncomfortable but doesn’t dare say anything?
It could be about Katrina. Is she jealous?
I won’t put her through anything she doesn’t want to.
“I’m sorry, I have a headache coming on.” I rub my temple with my free hand.
“Oh, poor thing,” Linnea says, cupping my face in her hands, and I bet any ailment I had, if I did have one, would disappear with her softness on me like this. Our eyes meet.
“Is it okay with you if we go?” I try again, checking if I can read her response. Keeping my hands on her waist, my fingers splayed, I’m certain she relaxes. It’s so subtle, but it’s like I’ve just struck gold, trying to read her.
“That’ll suit me well,” she whispers and kisses my cheek, dangerously close to my mouth. I close my eyes, relishing the brush of her warm, tender lips. If I turn left now, I’d find her mouth with mine. Would she let me?
“That’s a shame,” Katrina interrupts. Her face is doing the opposite of Linnea’s. Her disappointment is obvious, with her knitted brow and pursed lips. “It’s a great story, especially after that. Did you see Henry throw his mallet across the lawn? And how he stomped away?”
“Good luck with your blogging,” I say and nod to her, hiding my glee at Henry’s predictable nature.
But an idea hits me. “Katrina, be careful what you put about Henry in the blog, the way he talks shit about Linnea and anyone he doesn’t like behind their backs is despicable.
He wouldn’t hesitate to drag your name through the mud too. ”
“What an arse,” she says, grimacing.
“Yeah, I had to ban him from The Orion.” I shake my head, stifling my smirk when she gapes. “But yeah, be careful, he’s a snake.”
“Thank you for the warning, and hope you feel better.”
I nod again and lead Linnea away.
Once we’re around the corner of the entrance, well out of sight and earshot, I put away my pretend headache. “With so much left of the day, do you want to grab some proper food?”
There’s a steady drone of cars passing on the road next to us, but I can hear Linnea’s hesitant hum through it all.
Between deciding to leave and now, I must have missed a change in Linnea’s body language, in her posture. She’s closed off, somehow. I stop and look at her. Really look at her. She’s going to say no, but I have no clue why.
What happened between her saying she wanted to hang out and now?
“It’s best if we leave it here, Aiden. I need some time to myself.”
“Please don’t go.” I step forward, and when she sways towards me instead of away, adrenaline rushes through me and pools in my gut, urging me to take action. “Talk to me, Linnea. Tell me what you’re thinking.”