You could kiss it better.
Arthur almost had.
He ran a frustrated hand through already disheveled hair. Rory very well might have been flirting with him—but in the quiet of dawn, when their bodies were close, and Rory still shaken from visions of murder.
Rory barely has a civil word for you, but when he was alone and scared, he called you, he reminded himself.You will not take advantage of a hurt and vulnerable twenty-year-old when he asks for your help. You will not abuse his fragile trust. You will be the lifeline he needs and you will keep your hands to yourself.
Coffee would have been welcome, but his parents’ housekeeper, Mrs. Polkowski, only came by his flat twice a week and he’d never gotten the knack for making his own. He swallowed two aspirin with tap water and checked the breadbox, only to find it empty. He’d have to go back out for coffee and something to eat, but not without a shower, and, more importantly, a shave.
Arthur was dressing when the front door opened and Jade’s heels echoed on the hardwoods. He met her in the study, still tying his tie, finding her sorting through the large stack of envelopes on his desk. “When was the last time you opened your mail?”
He shrugged. “The people I do real business with don’t send letters. The mail’s nothing but solicitations and invitations.”
“Exactly. Invitations.” She held up a fancy envelope. “Luther Mansfield is throwing a gala for the new mayor on Saturday and you’re invited.”
Arthur groaned. “And I have to go,” he said in disgust. “He has no idea I know anything about magic and thinks I’m a useless dewdropper chasing skirts on my parents’ dime. He hates my father’s politics and invited me as revenge and I’m going to have to go to his bloody party because he’s the damn buyer behind the relic and it’s here.”
He laid out everything he’d learned from Rory about the relic and Gwen. Jade paced as he talked. “An amulet.” She grimaced. “A ring that gates the power to control the wind is bad enough. New York doesn’t need another relic, whatever it does, and Rory’s in more danger than ever.” She looked terribly serious as she said, “We failed Gwen. We can’t fail Rory too. Any chance he’ll leave the city?”
“There’s more chance of Prohibition ending tomorrow,” Arthur said ruefully. “I’m beginning to think kidnapping isn’t the worst option. I’ll make a conspirator of Mrs. Brodigan. If she knows I plan to stash him somewhere safe, she’ll probably knock him over the head herself.”
“Oh, let me help,” Jade said. “He might be small enough for me to get in a car trunk, if I can find the right thing to maneuver him with.”
There was a knock on the door. Speak of the devil—Arthur found Rory fidgeting on the doorstep, in his ragged coat and newsboy cap, overgrown blond curls poking out under the brim. He had Arthur’s envelope clutched in bandaged hands.
“You forgot your money.”
Arthur leaned on the door frame, warmth curling in his chest. Rory could have sent the money back via courier. He was wary as a stray but he was here, on Arthur’s doorstep. “Hello again to you too.”
“Yeah, yeah, manners and all that.” He thrust the envelope at Arthur. “I told you we couldn’t accept this. You forgot to take it back.”
Arthur made no move to take the envelope. “I didn’tforget. I’m not taking it back, it’s yours.”
Rory huffed and finally came into the flat, pushing past Arthur into the foyer. He set the envelope on the mahogany console table with some force. “No, it’syours.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You could pretend to negotiate with the customer.”
“Oryoucould go chase yourself.” Rory’s gaze had drifted to the parlor, where morning sun glowed in golden pools on the floor. Outside the windows, Central Park’s snow-covered tree branches glittered like a white sea. “Nice view.”
He sounded like he meant it. But then, of course he meant it; Arthur had seen Rory’s dark and claustrophobic room. His chest clenched. “You’re welcome to enjoy it. I was just about to run for breakfast, but you could stay—”
“You gotta whole big kitchen,” Rory said. “Why would you go out?”
“Because while Ace is a man of many talents, cooking sadly isn’t one of them.” Jade appeared in the frame between the parlor and the foyer. She smiled warmly. “Hello, Rory.”
Rory brightened. “Hey.”
Arthur would have paid three times the amount in the envelope to get Rory to perk up like that for him. But then Rory turned back to Arthur, and he wasn’t smiling but he wasn’t glaring either. “Not using your kitchen’s criminal.”
“Oh please,” said Arthur. “Like you cook.”
Rory shrugged and looked away, but not before Arthur caught the pink on his cheeks.
Rory cooked. “If you’re about to tell me you can make Italian food, I might propose right here,” Arthur said, only mostly joking.
The pink on Rory’s cheeks deepened. He scuffed a foot on the ground, then said, without looking at Arthur, “Used to help in the restaurant where my mom worked.”
It was gruff and surly and heart-wrenchingly vulnerable. Arthur opened his mouth, flailing for something comforting to say.
