Page 8 of Speak No Claim

“Travel must have exhausted you.” She backed away, gesturing to my uncle. “Luis, let her go get dressed.” She grabbed my hand. “I picked out the perfect gown for you. It’s in one of the guest rooms.”

Nodding to me, Tío introduced her. “Hennessy, this is my fiancée, Elizabeth.”

Fiancée? We didn’t know he was engaged.

“Enough with the small talk. It can wait,” she beamed. “My brother was gracious enough to offer his home for your welcome party. Now let’s not have your guests wait to meet you.”

Her brother? Is he engaged to his best friend's sister?

“Hennessy needs to get dressed, honey.” Nodding to an older woman standing close to her wearing a uniform, she ordered, “The housekeeper will escort you.”

I didn’t have a chance to object. Every conversation seemed to fade as heads turned toward one of the many hallways in this palace. Interest heaved through the crowd, snatching notice with it. My gaze swept over unfamiliar faces until it caught one I hadn’t expected to come across.

The grand foyer held its breath, locking eyes with the guy dressed in a black hoodie. The hoodie almost covered his entire face while his hands were in the pockets of the heavy cotton material. He was dressed in worn jeans and scuffed boots, looking completely out of place.

Exactly like me.

We were the only two people in the room who weren’t dressed to impress. It wasn’t his outfit that caught my attention the most. It was the observant expression on his face that had me wondering if I wore the same on mine.

Two things were immediately clear to me: one, he didn’t give a shit about who he was impressing, and two, he didn’t want to be there, and we shared that immediate connection.

Like a knife carving into my skin, the sting of his stare did exactly that. My heart seized inside my chest, tightening as if he’d reached between my ribs and wrapped his hand around it.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

I was frozen in place.

Powerless.

Restrained.

Exposed.

Not in fear. Fear would’ve been an emotion I could understand, something I could relate to. Something I could hold on to.

No, this was something far more unsettling. It felt like I was standing underneath a microscope where every scar I’d spent years hiding suddenly lay bare beneath his gaze.

Every insecurity. Every secret. Every flaw.

He stared at me as if he could peel away my flesh and bones until nothing was left but the truth I’d spent my entire life trying to outrun. My skin prickled beneath the weight of his attention, and the room around us faded until all that was left were those impossible honey-colored eyes fixated on mine.

I couldn’t tell if he hated me or pitied me, but hatred would’ve been easier to survive. There was no curiosity in his expression like the others. There was only recognition and this resentment I felt instantly. It was this unmistakable look of someone who wished I never existed.

Like my arrival had disrupted something set in motion long before I was born. Like I’d walked into a story that had already been written and I wasn’t supposed to be in it. He looked at me like I’d stolen something that belonged to him, standing in a house I had no business being in. Crossing this threshold, I was never supposed to find or be a part of.

I couldn’t see his whole face, just enough of his eyes and expression to make me well aware I wasn’t wanted here.

Once again, every instinct I possessed screamed the same warning.

“Run…”

From this room.

From these grounds.

From all these people, especially…