Page 83 of Pretender

Henry is at the top of the croquet field where Aiden stood just a minute ago. And next to him is the young woman who was grinding in his lap on Halloween last year when I completely lost my cool. When it hit me how they’d probably been fucking around like that for ages. In rooms I’ve designed. On furniture I’d personally picked out or had custom made for Aiden’s club.

The expression on Henry’s face right now is a mix of contempt and utter disgust. I hope he sees the same in mine.

Aiden follows my gaze, and he doesn’t skip a beat.

“Fuck the ball, let’s go say hello to your lovely ex-husband, shall we?”

How is Aiden smiling, like this is nothing?

Last time I saw Aiden and Henry interact up close was one of my worst memories. My behaviour wasn’t exactly civil, and the humiliation of it still burns in my gut.

I poured a drink on Harriet’s back while she was on him, and while she ran crying to the ladies’ room, Henry pulled me off to the side by my arm.

He’d been angry at me plenty of times, but not like that. The pure hatred I saw in his eyes was new.

He was the one who cheated on me, yet he made it seem like it was my fault.

‘What gives you the right to behave like a maniac like that? You pushed me into her arms,’ he said. ‘You’re such a cold bitch. Do you know how fucking hard it’s been to love you all these years?’

It wasn’t the first time he’d said that to me, but I wanted to make sure it was the last.

‘Did you, though?’ I yelled at him. ‘Have you loved me, or have you just needed someone smaller than you to make you feel better? Now I see you for the weak man you are, and you can’t take it.’

‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that,’ he hissed at me, gripping me with such force, so much resentment, I couldn’t move. His fingers dug into my arm so hard it still hurts when I think about it.

That’s when Aiden showed up.

He tore Henry off me by his ear.

The sight of Aiden pulling greying Henry—a man eight years his senior and one of his suppliers—by the fucking ear, it was terrifying at the time, but cathartic in hindsight. Henry screamed, and Aiden threw him into the staff hallway next to the bar. I followed. I wanted Aiden to punch him in the throat, but Aiden is smarter than that. He held him by the shirt, leaned close to his face, and he literally growled, telling Henry to get the fuck out of his club and stay out.

It was also the night Aiden’s view of me changed. How could it not? I was a fucking mess. Gasping, crying. Pathetic.

He looked at me differently, and I knew then, he’d lost his respect for me.

“You okay?” Aiden asks, the sun shining down on him. The smell of grass roots me back in the royal garden.

Aiden threads his fingers through mine and kisses my hand. Finally, I dare to lift my gaze to his, and now his expression is that of encouragement and something else I can’t put my finger on, but it makes me certain that … I can do anything.

“Leave it. Fuck that guy,” I say.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, let’s go find Venetia before I get tipsy.”

He looks at me, smoothing his hands down my arms the way he does sometimes, and I kind of like it. Then he leans in and kisses my forehead.

Is it for show?

Because I don’t mind this.

Closing my eyes, I breathe him in. His scent is intoxicating.

Lines blur in my mind. This feels so genuine.

Holding hands again (apparently something I like to do now), we make our way across the grass and away from the man I wasted so much time on, towards the people I need more time with. I hear Henry’s voice behind us, but I ignore it.

What’s important is the woman up ahead in the marquee, next to the most elaborate grazing table I’ve ever seen. It’s a full-length table with piles of fruits, crackers, and cheeses, decorated with edible flowers. And in the midst of it all, the remaining half of a Gisbon Lux glass tower.