“It’s not just about sex.”
“Isn’t it? It’s like I said before, we don’t know each other anymore, not like we used to.”
“I know you, better than you think.” He brushes invisible lint from the sleeve of his suit jacket.
“Right now, I’m the fish who got away. You’re intrigued. But once you had me and got me out of your system, what would be left? You’d move on to the next woman who caught your attention. A woman who most likely would fit better into your lifestyle.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not how it would be.”
“It wouldn’t? What’s changed, Seven. Are you telling me you’d risk your father’s wrath and fae society’s scorn to have a real relationship with me? You still work for your father. You’re an adult now. You have more wealth, power, and influence than anyone I know, but as far as I can tell you haven’t done a thing to break his hold over you. You’re still that little boy under his thumb, drinking his poison. And if I was with you, it would be back to hiding and secrets, like two horny teenagers.”
He runs both hands through his hair, leaving it uncharacteristically in disarray. “I can’t change the way the world works.”
“So then, I ask you again, why?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, fisting his hands. “Because there’s no one else I’d rather spend time with.”
“I have Arden to think about now. I can’t be your dirty little secret. I don’t want to lie to her or model unhealthy behaviors. If I’m going to date again, I want a real relationship. A public relationship.”
“It could turn into something more, Sophia. My father won’t be around forever.”
“No, he won’t.” I heave a sigh. “But you won’t do anything to upset the applecart. Even after he’s gone, you have to steer the ship, right?”
His gaze drops to the sidewalk, and I know I’m right.
“You would never risk going public with our relationship because it would threaten your position in Lucky Enterprises. You have to live up to the family name. A relationship with a pixie would be scandalous, and your father would likely find a way to have you ousted from the company. Even after he’s gone, going public with our relationship would be a PR nightmare. You’ll never do that….”
“You’re wrong.” He looks at me through his lashes.
“I’m not. There’s something between us, Seven. There always has been since the day I was drawn to you in the woods as a child. But we’re bad for each other. The only thing that can come out of pursuing this relationship is pain. Right now, we’ve been apart long enough we can both move on without falling to pieces. But if we date, if we fall in love? What then?” I back up a step. “I could be wrong about this, but if I am, I’m prepared to live with the consequences. They’re safer than starting something with nowhere to go.”
“You done?”
“Yeah.”
“This thing between us, Sophia, it’s not something that comes along every day, and it promises a lot more than pain. Give me a chance and I’ll prove it to you.”
There’s nothing else I can say. Lifting onto my toes, I kiss his cheek. “See you tomorrow, Seven.”
I stride back to the store. At the door, I glance behind me to find him staring, unmoving, in the same place I left him. Slipping inside, I let the door close between us.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Luck is the residue of design. — Branch Rickey
That night I sleep fitfully. I tell myself it’s because we’ll be crossing into Shadowvale in the morning and it’s the likelihood of imminent death keeping me awake. But a tiny niggle at the back of my brain replays my conversation with Seven over and over again until I drift into dreams in the wee hours of the morning.
Seven and I sit on the beach—our beach—cross-legged in the sand before a flat stone that’s serving as a table. He’s shirtless, his skin glinting in the sun as if he was knitted by the gods from flesh and gold. Hard muscle cords his arms, his torso a terrain of peaks and valleys I desperately want to map with my fingers. The corners of his lips, almost too full for a man, turn up when he notices me watching him, framed within a square jaw under a direct, unyielding nose. He’s a luscious specimen of a man, fueled by an intimidating, tightly coiled, almost-regal strength. I picture him with a crown on his head and a scepter in his hands, sparkling from his gods-anointed throne. Seven would be a powerful ruler, but not one who exercised brute force with an iron fist. No, he’d be the type of king defended by nature itself, a tsunami that wore down his enemies, unlimited in his persistence as any mountain.
“It’s your move,” he says.
Only then do I notice the cards in his hand, the art on the back a picture of Kiko nestled in a field of clover. I glance down to find I’m fully dressed. There are five cards in my hands. Five-card draw. We must be playing strip poker, and I’m winning.
Power brushes past my ribs, his luck coiling around us, the purr of a contented dragon. The energy licks my skin, threatens to consume me. His eyes glow a brilliant emerald green—keen, insightful eyes that hold the promise of pleasure and something I want far more. My breath comes in pants as my body heats, the desire to strip off my dress almost unbearable.
I force myself to concentrate on my cards. Two kings, two queens, and a ten. I toss the ten into the discard pile and draw. But the card I select isn’t from a poker deck at all. It’s a tarot card. A picture of a man and a woman in a garden, the Lovers. My brow furrows. Confused, I drop the card in the center of the stone table.
Seven’s smile fades. “You win again.”
