It was obscene. It was beautiful. It was his.
As soon as Henry pulled under the awning, the doors opened, and Nick materialized at the threshold of the door.
“Our prince has returned,” he greeted, his familiarity earned over the course of twenty years and unmatched by others. “I trust your journey was uneventful.”
“Tedious.” Jack handed over the portfolio from The Preserve. “But successful. Have these sent to my study.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Something smells good.” The rich, savory scent of herbs perfumed the air.
“Myrtle’s been in the kitchen all day, anticipating your return.”
Myrtle.
Warmth spread through his chest as warm and wholesome as the stew she was likely cooking.
The sixty-three-year-old former prostitute now ran his household with iron efficiency. Jack didn’t have family, but his staff kept the loneliness at bay.
The kitchen was Myrtle’s domain. Copper saucepans hung from a rack, and herbs burst from terracotta containers on the sill. And a pot was always simmering on the stove. Today’s dish smelled of rosemary and wine.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she greeted in thick cockney before turning around. “Just as I suspected, thinner by a stone.”
“I doubt that,” he laughed, sliding into the empty seat by the counter. “I skipped breakfast.”
“No, you didn’t. I can smell the bourbon on your breath.”
“Well, I didn’t eat yet. I wanted to wait for a home-cooked meal.”
She set a slice of fresh baked bread before him. “How was Tokyo?”
“Unchanged.” He bit into the warm bread and moaned. “Delicious.”
She placed a cup and saucer before him and filled it with steaming tea. “Earl Grey, just as you like.” She dropped in a slice of lemon and it floated to the surface. “No sugar.”
“Thank you, Myrtle.”
She waited as he took a sip. “You look tired, Jack. Not Tokyo tired.”
“It’s that time of year.”
Her lips pressed thin. “Maybe this year you skip The Feast?—”
“I can’t.”
“You’re the host. You can do whatever you want.”
“The process has already begun. People are counting on me. I can’t let them down.”
Her hand briefly squeezed his, a privilege few others were permitted. “I wish it didn’t take such a toll on you. I know how some things can stir memories best left in the past.”
“It’s good for me to remember. Keeps me in check.”
“You’re a good man, Jack. You keep yourself in check.”
He raised a brow. They both knew that wasn’t true.
She patted his hand. “You’ll never turn into them, Jack. I wish you had more faith in yourself. Stop worrying about everyone else’s happiness and think of your own for a change.”
