But I didn’t want Ashbourne Heights. I came from a world like that. What I wanted was to be with him.
Green eyes, the color of four-leaf clovers, meet mine.
“Really? And why is that?” He smiles, baring one small dimple.
I nudge him, my cheeks heating. “Who’d take me to play with kittens at the shelter? Or listen to my wild theories about ghosts in our rose garden back home?”
“Kittens, huh? So that’s all I’m good for.”
“Shut up.” I grin. “Someday you’d open a vet office, and I’d play with kittens all day long.”
He chuckles, his straw-blond hair falling over his eyes. Tentatively, I brush it back. His dark roots are showing. I wonder how he’d look with his natural color.
“You know, you’re quite pretty.”
He groans. “That’s the last thing a guy wants to hear.”
“Pretty boy.” I laugh and drag my finger over his smooth skin. How did he escape getting pimples?
My phone buzzes.
Headmistress Larkin
Car service in half an hour. Debutante’s ball. Wear the blue.
I grip my phone, stare at the message, then turn it off.
“You need to run.” He sounds forlorn.
“Nope. Going to miss it.”
His head jerks. “But you’ll get into trouble.”
“Maybe I want to.” I smile at him, ignoring the guilt about flaking on a high-society event. “Maybe I want you to teach me how to sew and show me how to ride on your bike’s handlebars.”
Kian laughs, glancing at his rusted black bicycle. Then his face turns serious.
“You should go,” he murmurs, his eyes sad. “You don’t belong here with me. I can’t give you anything.”
“You’ve already given me everything.” I press my hand over my heart.
His breath hitches, his beautiful eyes flaring with something deep and dark.
Slowly, he brings his hand up and cups my face.
I shiver.
He swallows, clearly mistaking my tremble for me being cold, and shrugs off his jean jacket.
“No—it’s freezing, you’ll be—”
“Shhh. Let me be good at this too.” He slides the jacket over my shoulders and winks.
The past loosens its grip as the car stops. I get out, a gasp lodged in my throat.
A tall, modern building rises in front of me. Three stories of black limestone, thick fog swirling around its exterior, ivy choking the awnings, smothering the many secrets hidden behind its walls. It’s nature’s poor attempt at shielding this fortress from prying eyes.
“Welcome home,” Elias says.
