“Not really. We met at the ball.” I watch him closely, sensing more going on here. Whatever it is, it’s important, and I don’t want to miss any cues.
He eyes me from over the rim of the crystal glass. “Justat the ball?”
“Yes. He opened a door for me, and he wanted me to dance with his son. And I?—”
“Seemed to know exactly where to find me in the library,” he cuts in. His eyes are full of suspicion and hostility. But I did nothing wrong. Why is he looking at me as if I did?
A sick churn is growing in my belly. “I wanted to escape the dancing for a bit. You know that. I told you.”
Why is he looking at me like he doesn’t believe me? Why does it suddenly feel like I woke up in a nightmare?
“Yes, you did tell me that,” he says in a tone of disbelief, “and this morning, we find you having a cozy little breakfast out on the patio.”
“You don’t like him.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. His expression doesn’t change, but I regret having spoken a single word at all.
He throws back his head, and the laugh that pours out of him is so cold and harsh that I inch back, afraid. The laughter ends as suddenly as it started, and he drains the contents of his glass, his face twisting in disgust.
I tell myself it’s the taste of the alcohol that he doesn’t like. But after he’s set the glass down on the small side table, he’s still looking at me the same way.
As if it’s me, not the whiskey, that disgusts him.
“Torin, what is going on?” I ask softly. I reach out to him, and he recoils.
Shocked, I twist my fingers together to stop myself from reaching out to touch him again. The tiny voice in my head, which hasn’t stopped whispering that maybe the dream life I thought I was walking into isn’t a dream after all, grows louder.
“How much did he pay you to betray us?” He looks me up and down, as if he’s working out a price I’m worth. From the sneer on his lips, I’d be lucky if that figure reached double digits.
My face feels hot. Inside, I’m cold. I keep wanting to touch him. He’s my scent match, yet he’s staring down at me with so much disgust in his eyes, like he would sever the bond between us in a heartbeat if he could.
As if I’m not worthy of him.
But maybe I can make him understand.
Icanmake him understand that whatever he thinks I’ve done, he’s wrong. It’s just a misunderstanding. That’sallthis is.
“Torin, please just listen to me.” I take a step toward him, but it’s a reversal of what happened in the library.
As I take a step toward him, he takes two away from me. He doesn’t want me to touch him. He couldn’t have made it any clearer that my touch disgusts him. Beyond hurt, I lower my arm and keep my distance, not wanting to be rejected again.
“I don’t know what’s going on, Torin. Please, just tell me what this is about.Please,” I plead, willing him to believe me. Desperate for him to see that none of this makes sense to me.
But he’s so cold. None of my words are getting through to him.
Not one.
He stares at me. “Not one day in this house and you’re laughing with Veronica in the kitchen and smiling over breakfast with William in the garden.”
“I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but I haven’t done nothing wrong.”
He walks over to me, and I instinctively back up.
Every step toward me feels like a threat. And I keep backing away until a wall stops me.
My heart is in my throat. Tears are filling my eyes, and Torin is looking down at me like he’s made of stone.
Pinned against the wall, in a horrible repeat of what happened in the Haven Academy library, he puts his mouth beside my ear. “We would have given you everything. Anything you wanted, it would have been yours.Anything.”
