“It’s very kind of you.”Good thing she didn’t see me tonight!Despite my accident on the opening night, I hadn’t lost my cool then.
The door opens again and Jonas walks into the room.
Matteo runs to him. “Jonas!”
They hug. He kisses the boy’s forehead before greeting Celeste.
“What are you doing here?” he asks her with a sternness I didn’t expect.
Judging by her raised eyebrows, neither did she. “Matteo wanted to see you, and my schedule was clear for today, so I thought, why not?”
“Why not? Because of unnecessary risks,” he fumes.
She knits her eyebrows. “What risks? What are you talking about?”
Instead of replying, he rounds the jigsaw puzzle on the floor and surveys it. His face has the characteristically sheepish air of someone realizing he’s said too much. And he hasn’t looked at me once since he walked in.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Matteo,” I say to the boy. “And you, Celeste. Bye, now. Have a lovely evening!”
As I head for the door, I feel Celeste’s piercing gaze on me.
Jonas doesn’t utter a word.
How can a man, who saved me from public humiliation last Sunday, who risked his life to save mine on Thursday and who made passionate love to me in this very room last night, treat me with so much disdain now?
I can handle rejection, but this?
Doesn’t he realize how much he’s hurting me? Doesn’t he care?
Damn you, Jonas d’Alenq!
CHAPTER26
JONAS
Never, in my entire life, have I loathed myself as much as I do now. I turn away from the wall and look at Matteo who’s breathing evenly on the sofa bed on the other side of the room. Celeste is sleeping on a camp bed in Mrs. Everly’s office. It wasn’t the brightest idea she ever had to come visit me with Matteo now, but in all fairness, Celeste knows nothing about my mission.
I shouldn’t have scolded her the way I did.
But that’s nothing compared to how I’ve been treating Margot since this morning. It’s beyond despicable. She’s done nothing, absolutely nothing, to deserve such treatment. And I bet it wouldn’t even occur to a less thoughtful woman to consider that she might have. But, introspective as she is, Margot has probably been wondering if she screwed this up somehow, and wishing I’d tell her if that was the case. I could see the plea in her eyes all day.
Thing is… I can’t tell her the truth. And I can’t bring myself to lie to her.
I have a date with Giselle, the Key to the Key, tomorrow afternoon. She’ll give me a private tour of the Giselle Fisher Regency Museum. During our long confab after Leo left, I asked her if she had antique keys in her collection because I have a bit of a fetish for them. She told me she did, both catalogued and uncatalogued. The latter is great news because an undercover MESS agent visited the museum as a regular guest and didn’t find our key in any of her public showrooms.
After I saw Giselle out, I sent a coded message to the head of MESS, feeling rather proud of myself. As far as my mission goes, it’s been a great day. But on a human level, I feel like punching myself. Real hard.
Margot must’ve come to my room earlier tonight to confront me, no doubt. But she didn’t get a chance. I was odious. Instead of taking her somewhere private so she could air her grievances, even slap me across the face if needed, I took the coward’s way out.
It’s what’s keeping me awake now at one in the morning. Not the yearning in my loins, but the guilt.
The guilt that’s eating at me has nothing to do with Giselle. I have no intention whatsoever to follow the Montevor princes and marry my Key to the Key. What’s more, I don’t plan on fucking her, or even kissing her. I’m just charming her long enough to find the key. So, two-timing Margot is not an issue, though she doesn’t know that. It’s about having seduced her, knowing that we can’t be together. Not now, not next week, not after I’ve secured the key, not ever.
The hot thing we had going, it’s finished.
We belong in different worlds, and I shouldn’t have entertained ideas to the contrary. I can’t imagine us as friends with benefits. Nor do I see us in a loose, long-distance relationship which I could turn off when I’m in Mount Evor or Cannes and turn on when I’m in London.
Margot is a take-it-or-leave-it kind of woman. And I’m leaving her in the ugliest way I’ve ever dumped a woman.
