“Yep, that definitely sounds like my dear brother,” she says dryly, letting out a sigh. “Look, I’m not trying to defend him, but Phil and Nicolas were close. Really close, even if it didn’t seem that way to you. They were brothers, Lia, and Nicolas loved Phil. He’s not handling his death well, not that it excuses his behavior. He can be a real asshole when he wants to be.”
I snort.
“Clearly, he wants to be an asshole around me. And it’s hard to believe they were close. Phil barely mentioned him. Nicolas was never around, and when he was, he usually caused trouble that Phil had to bail him out of,” I retort stubbornly. Because I don’t want to believe that Nicolas isn’t as bad as he seems. And I don’t want to believe that Phil kept their close relationship from me. That thought stings, and I can’t make sense of it.
Lizzy notices my internal struggle and smiles sympathetically.
“Phil protected Nicolas like a treasure, because he knew him well enough to understand everything he’d been through. And no, he didn’t mean to hurt you by keeping how often they saw each other a secret. But let’s be honest, Lia. You formed your opinion about Nicolas a long time ago. Would you have believed Phil if he’d tried to convince you otherwise?”
Her knowing gaze pierces me, and I resist it with all my might.
That’s not who I am.
Yes, you did exactly that, retorts my impulsive inner voice, and I’d love nothing more than to silence it. Because damn it, they’re both right.
“No. No, I wouldn’t have. I’m not even doing it now,” I admit through gritted teeth, begrudgingly conceding, and Lizzy bursts into laughter.
“Your dentist is going to love you if you keep clenching your jaw like that. But don’t worry, I get it. Nicolas is… difficult.”
I let out a derisive snort, unwilling to give him even an inch. Not after his little stunt earlier.
“Okay, okay, very difficult. But you’re going to have to find a way to deal with him. And besides, this is your chance to finally get out of Perlington House. Isn’t that still your main goal?"
Lizzy leans back against the tree trunk, sipping her latte macchiato, studying me closely.
“Yes. Yes, it is. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to play the obedient little wife when your brother drives me insane just by existing,” I confess, looking at her helplessly. I have no idea how to handle this situation or my erratic, impulsive emotions. Yes, I need to get away from Henry, but at what cost?
“You know what? Let’s leave all this crap behind us for today and go out. The crew hasn’t seen us in forever, and I know for a fact they’ll be at Purgetonight. Let’s blow off some steam and clear your head, hmm?” She looks at me with a mischievous sparkle in her gray eyes. “Yes? Yes? Yes? Come on, Lia,” she pleads, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Okay, okay, but only because you mentioned the kids,” I give in with a sigh.
Lizzy and I volunteer to work with former street kids, now part of a royal-sponsored program for homeless youth. We teach them dance—street dance, shuffle, ballet, the works. I studied social work, which prepared me well for future queenly responsibilities, but my passion outside of books has always been dance. Same with Lizzy. A few of the former program participants often hang out at Purge.
“Yes!” She claps her hands in excitement but accidentally spills her coffee, letting out a startled yelp as her pants get soaked.
“Oh no, my beautiful coffee,” she wails dramatically, and I burst out laughing. Of course, her grief is for the latte, not her jeans.
“It’s fine. You’ll drink ten more before we even head out. I’ll call Henry and tell him I’m staying at your place. Otherwise, he’ll try to forbid it again. If I say I’m staying at the castle, he won’t object. No need for him to know we’re going out.” A buzz of anticipation stirs in my stomach, excitement humming through me. The thought of an evening without overthinking—without Henry—is too tempting to resist.
“Then let’s go, Lady Perlington. Time to pick out an outfit for the evening. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even find someone to have a little fun with,” she teases with a wink, and I groan.
“Just because my sex life has been nonexistent for MONTHS doesn’t mean you get to play matchmaker. Don’t even think about it,” I warn, raising a finger but unable to hide my smirk.
“There’s nothing wrong with a good, satisfying sex life, my dear. Quite the opposite. You’ll see. Now let’s go. We have a mission.”
She bounces to her car, and I follow her with a sigh. Somehow, I have the distinct feeling this night is going to be unforgettable.
Jeans. She was wearing jeans. And a shirt.
The image of Amelia sitting at Philipp’s grave, lonely and broken, flashes through my mind again, and the feelings come rushing back. Her grief was almost tangible, seeping from every pore, and I felt it like it was my own. I wanted to hold her, to pull her close. She looked so small, so fragile. Yet I don’t trust her.
I know it doesn’t make sense, and rationally, there’s no reason for it, but something about her gets under my skin like nothing else. At the same time, she draws me in with an intensity that unnerves me. And I hate her for it. I hate her for stirring up these conflicting emotions in me, for stabbing me in the heart every time I see her, because she reminds me of my brother.
And today, I made the mistake of touching her.
Feeling her body against mine sent jolts of electricity racing over my skin. For that moment, I wanted her, so much that it hurt. Her eyes, her body. She’s a little siren, and that makes her dangerous. Very dangerous, because she is absolutely off-limits.
And yet, you almost pounced on her, you idiot, mocks my subconscious, to which I mentally flip the middle finger.
