In a slightly breathy voice, one that had no right being as seductive as it was, he murmured, “Is that really what you want, Mr. O’Connor?”
Jesse’s heart stuttered and a lightning bolt ofwantcoursed through his veins.
He frowned. “No.” His face burned hotter. “I hate you,” he said with a sigh, knowing very well that he sounded like a petulant child.
Arthur chuckled haughtily. “Mmm... no, I think you like me.”
“Not even a little.”
“Because it’s a lot?” Arthur asked playfully.
Jesse shook his head, but a smile cracked through his surly façade.
“Because it’s a lot,” he conceded.
Arthur continued to laugh. It was the most enraging, most pompous, most bewitching sound that Jesse had ever heard in his life. Jesus Christ, Jesse was so enamored with this man. He was so completely besotted with Arthur Albert Hughes.
Jesse ruminated on the perfection of that moment as they moved over the water, their bench creeping farther along the pier every second.
After they finished traveling the entire length of the track, it was time for them to hop off and head to Bridgeport. Jesse took one last look around before following Arthur off of the platform. He only took two steps back toward the Court of Honor when a tall, lean man with a charming smile and soft brown eyes walked into his field of vision. Jesse froze, fear crystalizing in his veins like sharp pieces of ice.
Percy Verne.
“Jesse? Jesse Wolff?” Percy said, coming closer, his smile stretching wider but turning slightly sinister. Or perhaps that was only in Jesse’s mind. “Fancy meeting you here.” Before Jesse could even try to respond, Percy looked up at Arthur and said, “Arthur Hughes? Now, this is interesting. Do you two know each other?”
Jesse shouldn’t have been as shocked as he was to hear Percy say Arthur’s name. Obviously Arthur and Percy had crossed paths before. Probably many times, even. After all, the circle of Chicago’s elite was only so large. Or, more precisely, so small.
Arthur replied effortlessly, “Yes, we do. Jesse works for me.”
“Oh really? Where?” Percy inquired.
“Putnam Press. Jesse is the most skilled pressman there. He’s probably the most skilled in the whole of Chicago, really.”
“Wow.” Percy’s eyes flickered over to Jesse, whose entire face was now on fire, though the rest of his body was still frozen solid. “It seems like you managed to escape the Stockyard in the end, hm?”
Even though there was no malice in Percy’s voice, hearing the shameful truth of his pitiful origins still made Jesse flinch. He tried to reply, but shock and shame and heartache strangled the words in his throat, and the only thing he could manage was a small, pathetic nod.
“So, Percy, how is it that you and Jesse know each other?” Arthur asked.
“We went to college together,” Percy said simply. “Well, for a time.”
Shame continued to scorch Jesse’s cheeks. Yes,for a time. Until Jesse had failed out because he’d been too Goddamned heartbroken to keep up in his classes.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Illinois Industrial? I thought you went to Princeton.”
Percy shrugged. “That was the plan initially, but when my mother suffered from her stroke, I thought it would be best if I stayed close by. Relatively speaking.”
“Ah, yes, that makes sense,” Arthur said with a friendly smile. “If I recall correctly, she’s since recovered her mobility?”
“By the grace of God,” Percy confirmed with a nod.
“Wonderful to hear that,” Arthur replied, his voice tinged with unmistakable compassion.
Jesse wished he possessed even one ounce of that man’s charm.
A tick of silence followed, and Jesse thought that perhaps he’d weathered the worst of it.
But then Percy opened his Goddamned mouth.
