“It’s called 'Close to You' by The Carpenters,” he says, a frown flitting over his face. “It’s an old song. My mother used to sing it to me.”
I nod slowly, noticing the sadness flashing through his eyes, the moment of his vulnerability feeling oddly profound.
“Your mother…she’s…”
“No more,” he admits with a sigh as he makes his way to the table. He flips the pancake from the pan onto a plate and steps back. “She died fifteen years ago.”
My heart squeezes inside my chest. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be,” he says quietly, then nods to the chair. “Please, take a seat. I’ve made breakfast for you.” He offers me a sheepish smile before turning back to the stove, and that’s when another pang of remorse grips my heart.
That was sadness in his eyes, I’m sure of it. As sure as I am that I still haven’t fully processed my mother’s death, because eight years later, there’s still a void in my chest that won’t leave me, and nothing can fill it.
I also realize that Heinrich and I barely know each other. He hasn’t told me much about his family. I’ve only met his father once, and I suspect that everything I thought I knew was just a part of his disguise to fit into my world. Even then, he’d been a brick wall of information and kept his private life very private.
Go figure!
Taking a seat at the table, I decide to be that person—the person who pries further into a world I’ve only just learned about. But that’s how I’ve always been. I’ve always asked questions, sought knowledge, and it’s how I got through my life at Alpha Pharmaceuticals.
“So, do you have any siblings…?” I ask tentatively as Heinrich continues to flip another pancake at the stove.
“No,” he says over his shoulder. “I’m an only child.”
I nod thoughtfully because, in all honesty, it makes so much sense. That’s where the conceit comes from, the self-centeredness that he’d been wearing so easily while he was in the office.
“What about you?” he asks as he turns, and that’s when I freeze up.
I gulp hard, noticing the way he turned the questions on me. “I—I have a sister.”
“Mom and Dad?” he asks while he comes forward and takes the seat across from me.
“No,” I say flatly, turning my attention to my food. I’m scratching my head for a way to turn this back on him, and when I find it, I look up only to see Heinrich staring at me intently.
He’s doing that thing he does best, staring as if he’s peeling off the layers of his next investor to find a way in that the next person won’t get out of, and cave to the things he wants. In hindsight, it probably has to do with who he really is, maybe a manipulation tactic because he’s been doing it so well for the past four years, and maybe longer, considering he’s been “Henry Ralph” in the city for so long.
But I’ve worked as his personal assistant long enough to know how he operates, and I flip the switch back on him.
“So, if you don’t have any siblings, who is the girl who visited me the other day?”
“Well, she visited last night as well,” he responds calmly, matter-of-factly. “When you passed out. She was here to check up on you. She’s the pack’s healer. Her name is Anastasia.”
I don't know why on earth I feel a pang of jealousy grip my heart, but I shrug it off, hum in response, and pick up my fork, sticking it into a pancake with deliberate force.
Heinrich must notice my irritation, because he watches me closely, doesn’t even pick up his cutlery to dig into his food, and waits.
Waits for a response. Waits for a reaction. But I don’t give him one.
“Anastasia and I are only friends,” he continues.
“Okay,” I shrug, because it’s not my business. It doesn’t even matter to me who she is.
“She was my best friend’s sister.”
His statement has me pausing, slowing down my chewing, and lifting my head to meet his eyes. That sadness is back, his eyes softened with it, brows furrowed slightly as if they’re trembling.
“Was…?” I ask, and Heinrich nods slowly.
“Her twin brother, Alistair, was my best friend. He was also this pack’s beta.”
