“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“No. Dionne told me not to, so I lied and said I didn’t know.”
“And he believed you?”
“Not at all, but I kept lying. He has his own secrets. The stupid gifting ball came out of nowhere and he was going to introduce me like a prize pig.”
“Did he say anything to you? Tell you anything?”
“Nothing. He just kept telling me lower Elysia is my home. It’s where I belong. Barely answered any of my questions. The prick.” I bit my bottom lip gently. “Who shares his home, Gray? The place isn’t just green. There are touches of pink.”
“I try not to concern myself too much with Archer’s personal life.”
Realising I wouldn’t get an answer from him, I let go of Gray’s hand and dipped under the water again to rid myself of the conditioner. When I resurfaced, Gray had a fluffy black towel in his hands. I stepped out of the tub and let him wrap me in it.
“Do you own anything that isn’t black?” I asked.
“No, and I don’t plan on redecorating,” he replied proudly. “What would you prefer? Gold?”
Pulling a face, I tightened the towel around my body and turned away from him, heading towards the door.
“Such a shame,” Gray called after me, sounding smug. I ignored him and kept going. “The colour really landed itself to the fact you’d be the most perfect trophy wife.”
It happened quicker than I could react to it. The insinuation that I’d be some pretty, decorative element for any man set my blood on fire and the warmth exploded in my chest. It burned straight through my skin as I turned on my heel to face Gray and watched him knocked clean off his feet before smashing into the mirror above the counter.
My hands flew to my mouth while the room glowed in golden hues. “Shit,” I whispered.
Gray looked up from the floor, surrounded by shattered glass. There was a moment of silence before he tipped his head back and laughed so loud that I jumped. When he calmed down, he looked at me again, blue irises robbed by the black of his aura.
“Of all the things that have happened recently that could make you lose your shit, it’s me calling you a trophy wife,” he said, picking himself up from the floor. “You truly are a marvel, Quentin Scott.”
We were never going to be that picture perfect couple who coveted a soft love. There were moments we shared, and I appreciated, but Gray and I were destined to be chaotic and messy. It might not have been perfect, but it was all I wanted.
“You are the worst person in my life,” I told him, struggling to keep the smile at bay.
“I’m banking on it, golden girl.”
“You’re making coffee.” Erik’s voice sounded from behind me. “She’s home.”
Leaving the pot on the counter, I faced my brother. “I thought you would have been here yesterday.”
“Sloan made me wait,” he muttered sullenly. “Thought you would appreciate time alone together.”
I chuckled under my breath. A day of peace was exactly what Quentin needed. Physically, she was okay, but my golden girl had retreated. She was lost inside her head as she sat out on the cliffs that backed the manor. She was glued to my side, constantly in contact as she asked questions and carefully shared her thoughts until she was ready to retire to bed.
Throughout the night, I watched her. She was as restless in her sleep as she was in consciousness, and I knew she would have more to discuss. Hence the pot of coffee to ease us into things this morning.
“Where is she?” Erik asked.
“Still in bed. It’s been a long few days and there are plenty more ahead of us. She needs to rest.”
“Have you figured out what happens next?”
“She wants to go home, Erik.”
My brother’s face fell, and I hated the fact I’d delivered the news that disappointed him.
“She is home,” he whined. “This is her home.”
