AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He was more subtly handsome than most of the men, and his tuxedo was darkest gray instead of black. His suit matched his eyes, and his skin also had a gray cast to it. Naturally, I assumed that he was a gargoyle, but instead of being charmed and wanting him to fly away with me, I wanted to dump a glass of something over his head and run.
I stepped to the side to go around him, but he blocked me. I stepped to the other side, but again, he moved in front of me, and this time got close enough that his suit almost brushed my dress.
“I beg your pardon,” I said in my most lilting princess voice.
He smiled a cold smile that didn’t match his eyes and bowed before holding out a hand. “You will come with me.”
His arrogance was awful. I would have assumed that he was my father because he was clearly odious enough to play the role, but his hair was wrong, and his face was not nearly handsome enough.
“I’m here to see my father.” I took a step away from him.
“But is he here to see you?” he asked, closing the distance again.
I licked my lips while my heart fluttered from nerves. This was one of the people who would grab me and throw me in a dungeon, torturing me for years for being a presumptuous janitor who thought she could get away with annoying, incredibly wealthy people who were so much better than her. Like Percival.
“My betrothed is here with me, Percival Marigold. I’m not…” I couldn’t say that I wasn’t an imposter, or that would give it away. I took another step away from him and hit a wall.
“Beg your pardon,” a cool, calm, capable voice said before the person grabbed the big gray’s shoulder and moved him back and to the side. It was him, the man from the computer, ninety-two percent, probably my dad. His hair was so red. Was my hair like that, so fiery and alive? His eyes were blue, keen, but not terribly unkind. He didn’t look at me as though I were something to consume, merely a client that had a problem he needed to solve as a matter of professional interest.
I stared at him while my heart pounded and my whole body went numb and then hot and uncomfortable, like being stuck with a thousand needles. What was I supposed to do? Something. The dress should tell me, but the dress was too subtle to break through the madness going through my brain. I was turning to stone. Right.
I put my arm in front of him, brushing the fabric of his fine vest while I held my breath, waiting for him to make his choice, execute me or help me.
He studied me for a long moment before looking down at my arm, then with a movement that somehow looked natural, he slipped his arm underneath mine and led me along the walkway, away from the gray man, who I could feel watching my back.
“Do you like roses?” he asked, clearly making pointless conversation like people did who knew how to do that. Roses as a plant were incredibly useful, every part of it beneficial in some way to a healer like my mother. To me, they were beauty with a thorn, like Percival and my father, like everyone who looked at my mother’s scarred face and curled their lip in distaste.
“No. As useful as the plant is, the beauty of the flower is superficial and undermined by inherent weakness of character.” I blinked while my stomach clenched. That’s not what superficial conversation sounded like. “I mean, of course I like roses. Everyone likes roses.”
“I have a house covered in roses and left it undisturbed until it was completely inaccessible.”
“What a waste. I mean, how romantic and, um, charming.”
“It’s a small house, so the waste isn’t noticeable.”
“A small house is still a house, but of course, you’re right, I’m sure that you don’t notice it.”
He gave me a sidelong glance that may have had a hint of amusement in it. “I haven’t introduced myself. How rude of me. I am Vincent Bellham. And you are…”
“Gabriela Doe. Pleased to meet you.” The dress wanted to drop a curtsy, but it also needed to keep an even stride beside my gentleman escort. “I’m your daughter.” The dress winced at me for blurting it out like that, because subtlety was the crowning glory of elegant young ladies.
He didn’t look surprised or bothered in the least. “You are also the Marigold heir’s betrothed. Congratulations.”
That’s it? He just walks right past that declaration and moves on to my connection with Percival? He was as vain and ridiculous as Percy of No Mercy.
“Thank you. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but I’m turning to stone, so I thought you might take some time out of your busy schedule to assist me with that. I’m sure I can arrange some kind of payment.” Because I had scads of things someone with infinite money, power, and taste could want. I cleared my throat. Lying wouldn’t help. “That is, I have very few things you would value, but I’m an excellent janitor.” I could feel my cheeks getting hotter. I’d just put that right out there with the daughter thing, but he didn’t trip over that either.
“I will consider it. We should dance to the next song. It probably isn’t your kind of music, rap, or rock, whatever young people find warms the blood these days.”
“I’m from Singsong City. Music is everything. I mean, I’m not a musician, but I certainly appreciate this incredible band. Is that a full jazz set? Percy has one half that size that he pulls out when he’s melancholy.”
“He keeps half of a jazz band in his pocket, does he?” he asked, with slightly thinning lips.
“No, across the street from school where he plays.”
“Gray College. You attend there?”
“No. I’m not magically gifted,” I said, walking down the steps with his assistance, because for some reason stairs were an obstacle to overcome when you were a princess.
