“Well, I do now.” Conleth’s fingers tapped a rapid pattern against his desk. He abruptly stood, going over to a shelf of neatly labeled files. “At the time, it never occurred to me he might have had a genuine vision. In my defense, it was remarkably ironic timing, given that he saw exactly what I’d just instructed him to fake. Or almost exactly. The suit really wasn’t my idea.”
He’d put his back to her, so she was free to watch him without getting caught. “I don’t get it. Everyone assumes you stayed at camp because you were waiting to meet your mate, but that’s not true at all. Why would you want people to think you’re here for selfish reasons?”
“So no-one questions why I stay.” He fidgeted with the files, tweaking their positions so they lined up perfectly with the edge of the shelf. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this, by the way. Especially Zephyr. He can’t find out I didn’t believe Joe’s prophecy.”
“Why not? He might feel betrayed at first, but he’s your friend. I’m sure he’d forgive you.”
“Yes. He would.” Conleth’s shoulders fell in a sigh. He turned around, crossing his arms. “And he’d feel tremendously guilty for not spotting my deception earlier. When I was helping him start the business, I made it clear that I had no desire to be involved with the camp after it opened. Hence why I had to come up with the damn prophecy scheme. It was the only way to convince him to let me fill the position of camp manager.”
“But if you didn’t want to work here in the first place, why did you go to such lengths to stay?”
He shrugged, as though this should have been obvious. “There are significant challenges to turning a profit when the true nature of your business has to remain a strict secret. Without expert supervision, this camp wouldn’t have lasted more than a single summer. If that. Keeping this place running is like juggling live sharks.”
“You could have found someone, surely.”
“No one who could do the job as well as myself.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “Egotistical, I admit. But also true.”
It was, not that it explained anything. “But…why?I mean, I can understand you wanting to help Zephyr, but you’ve sacrificed years of your life. Without anyone even knowing. Even for you that seems over the top.”
“Never underestimate my capacity to commit to an objectively terrible idea beyond the limits of all reason.” He looked away, voice softening in a way she’d come to recognize. “Besides, it wasn’t really for Zephyr.”
Now she understood. “Beth. You did it for her, didn’t you?”
He dipped his chin in the briefest of nods. “Even before she was old enough, she wanted to come to camp so badly. I had to make sure it would be here for her.”
“Right.” That was so perfectly, maddeningly Conleth. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or throw something at him. “So clearly the only option was to get a sea dragon prince topretend to foresee that you’d meet your mate here, so that Zephyr would have no choice but to let you take a job you didn’t want to do in the first place. And then wear a suit every single day so no one would realize you didn’t believe your own fake prophecy. That’s exactly the sort of thing you’d do.”
He shrugged again, light and self-deprecating. “You know me too well.”
She looked at him; this quick, complicated man. Her chest ached.
“Yes,” she said softly. “That’s the problem.”
Conleth’s brow furrowed. “What is?”
“Nothing.” She slid off the desk, cursing herself for letting that slip out. “I should go. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone your secret.”
She made for the door, only to find herself trying to walk through solid shifter. Conleth barred her way, as abruptly as if he’d teleported across the room.
“Paige.” He was right up in her personal space, one arm braced against the wall to block her path. “What did you mean?”
She swallowed, pinned by those intense green eyes. She knew she should step back, yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away. “It’s not important.”
He didn’t move. “Yes. It is. I don’t want to be a problem for you, Paige. I cannot stand the thought of you havinganyproblem, let alone myself.” His voice roughened. “So if I am—if I’m failing you that badly?—”
“No!” She didn’t want him thinkinghewas at fault here. Bottled emotion broke free, spilling out at last. “I just—it would have been so much easier if I didn’t know these things about you. If I could have gone on thinking of you the way I once did. I wish you really were an arrogant, self-centered, scheming asshole.”
Conleth blinked at her.
“Huh,” he said after a moment. “That’s the first time anyone’s ever accused me of not beingenoughof a devious bastard. Why is that a problem?”
A hot rush of mingled exasperation and embarrassment broke her paralysis. She pushed at his chest, but she might as well have tried to move a brick wall. “Oh, don’t give me that. You know perfectly well why.”
“I really don’t.”
He was standing so close, she had to raise her chin to glare at him. “Then you’ll have to use your imagination.”
Conleth still looked distinctly nonplussed. “Well, I’d like to imagine it’s a problem because you’re having to fight deep carnal attraction to me, but given my performance so far, that seems wildly overoptimistic. Ragvald’s mud theory notwithstanding.”
