When I hear them catching up to me, I want to walk faster, to put as much distance between myself and the three men behind me as possible, but I know they’d just get lost in this labyrinth of a house.
We approach the grand room where the high tea is taking place, and my chest tightens. The sounds grow louder, a cacophony of social niceties that sets my nerves on edge. The room is already crowded with people, a sea of unfamiliar faces and judgmental eyes, and my anxiety spikes.
I hate this.
All these eyes on me.
A warmth from my right cuts through the chill of my anxiety when Grey comes to stand next to me. His knuckles brush against the back of my hand in a gesture that feels both accidental and deliberate. I look up at him, meeting his steadygaze, and he gives me a reassuring nod as if to say that he’s here, that I’m not alone in this.
For a fleeting moment, I feel a spark of comfort, a lifeline in this suffocating atmosphere, but then I remember—them being here is part of why I feel so damn uncomfortable in the first place.
A knot forms in my stomach, making me nauseous.
A server, dressed in a crisp uniform, guides us to our table, where Mother, Father, August, Miranda, and Daniel are already seated, looking for all the world like a picture-perfect family tableau.
Only Daniel’s future wife is missing. And Abigail and the girls, but that’s not the point.
I’m placed between August and Daniel again, and it feels more like a trap than a comfort.
Oliver, Misha, and Grey sit opposite me as Daniel leans in, his lips brushing my cheek as he whispers, “You look beautiful today.”
His breath is warm against my skin, and the guys stiffen at Daniel’s familiarity.
Perfect, just perfect.
I glance at August, seeking some sort of support, only to find him grinning like he’s enjoying some private joke. He clears his throat and says, “I don’t think you got introduced. This is our mother, Edith Stanley. And our dear family friend, Miranda Bancroft, and her son, Daniel. He’s a good friend of Amelia’s.”
August’s words hang in the air, loaded with implications. I feel the weight of the guys’ gazes, the silent questions.
No, I don’t want him. But it’s not your fucking business.
The tension at the table is thick enough to cut with a knife—or perhaps as thick as one of these ridiculously tiny sandwiches.
“And these are Amelia’s ex-coworkers,” August continues, his expression radiating open contempt. I wince internally, wishing I could disappear into the plush upholstery of my chair.
Mother’s eyebrows arch delicately, a movement I’ve seen a thousand times before. It never fails to make me feel like I’m about to be scolded. “Oh? And what brings you gentlemen to London?” Her voice is honey-sweet, but I hear the venom lurking beneath.
“We’re here for a tech conference,” Grey replies smoothly, his eyes flickering to mine for a moment. “We thought we’d surprise Amelia.”
“How… thoughtful,” Mother says, in a tone that suggests it’s anything but.
Daniel leans in, his arm brushing against mine. The scent of his cologne is cloying, almost suffocating. “Oh, so, you’re working with computers too? That must be terribly dull. I can’t imagine staring at a screen all day.”
I feel a hot and sharp flash of annoyance, and before I can think about it, I say, “It’s anything but dull. It’s the future.”
“It’s a job for nerds who don’t like sunshine or getting properly paid.” Daniel laughs. His hand comes up to hold my shoulder. “But it’s a nice hobby, I guess.”
I read between the lines.
A hobby you can keep when I provide for you as your husband.
A lump forms in my throat. It’s so thick I’m worried I’ll choke on it.
“I admire the authenticity of your ignorance,” Grey says flatly, his face a mask of polite interest. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.
Oh, how I’ve missed Grey’s particular brand of snark.
Daniel blinks, confusion clouding his features as he finally takes his hand off me. “Did he just call me dumb?”
