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ChapterEighteen
Emelia
Professor Barclay is going to be in the sitting room.
I try to acclimate myself to the idea as Alexander leads the way back inside. If Miranda is here, so is he, and sure enough, the moment I step past the threshold, I find him. He’s standing in a group near the fire, Miranda at his side. A good deal taller than everyone around him, it’s not easy for him to go unnoticed, and his attire doesn’t help matters either. I love him in blue the way I love him in black. Him in a suit…well, it’s enough to break my heart.
The fact that he doesn’t look over and see me is a relief, or so I try to believe.
Fortunately, Alexander doesn’t abandon me once we re-enter the sitting room, though his friends do try to peel him away. He keeps me near, includes me in his conversations, introduces me proudly. Everyone’s reaction is the same.Sister?I didn’t know you had a sister!
There is the difficult caveat to all of this that I’m not sharing: the fact that I’mnotactually his sister. But does it matter now? After everything?
Around the room we go, chatting with everyone, until we eventually make it to the group that contains Professor Barclay and Miranda.
I’ve worked myself up to this moment. There’s no avoiding it.
“Has everyone here met Emelia?” Alexander asks.
Miranda speaks up first. “Yes. She’s a sweet girl. We had a good chat on the balcony, didn’t we?”
I merely nod.
“And Jonathan, I understand Emelia is your employee, but go easy on her,” Alexander starts with a teasing tone. “You guys aren’t at the office right now. Surely you can be polite.”
“You ask too much of him,” I say, before I think better of it.
Professor Barclay almost looks amused as he assesses me. “Emelia, lovely to see you.”
I arch my brow, knowing he means the exact opposite.
“Come,” Alexander says, touching my shoulder. “Let’s get you a refill on your drink before the chef calls us to sit for dinner.”
“I’ll take her, Alexander,” Professor Barclay says, stepping forward to offer me his arm.
I’m surprised, which is why I hesitate at first. Then, conscious of everyone’s eyes on us, I accept his offer, though I don’t take his arm. This annoys him, I know, but he keeps quiet until we’re out of the room and down the hall.
There’s no refill that’s going to happen. We turn a corner and find ourselves perfectly alone.
He stops walking first, and then I follow suit. We turn to face each other.
This is what I’ve wanted for two long weeks. It almost feels heady to be in his presence with no one else around, his full attention on me.
“How would you like to play this during dinner?” I ask, sounding unaffected. “Should I pretend I barely know you?”
“You do barely know me.”
I sear him with my gaze. He can try to convince himself of whatever he likes, but that’s a crock of shit and he knows it.
“Strangers it is. If you’ll excuse me…”
He blocks my path with his large frame so I’m forced to stand there and tip my head back to look up at him.
His blue eyes rove over me, eating me up.
“I noticed you left work early yesterday.”
“You noticed?” Why do I sound delighted by that? I continue with something far less cringeworthy. “You don’t need to worry about me slacking—I only ducked out an hour early.”
