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For the effect that he was having on her.
She had been kissed before.
Every single time it had been easy to turn away. Every single time she had been relieved that it was over. When she could extricate herself from the man’s hold and go on with her day, untouched below the neck and very happy about it thank you.
But she wanted Javier to touch her. And she feared very much that the vow he had made to her before he had stormed out of the ballroom was true.
That if it were to become more, she would never, ever be able to forget. That she would be ruined. That she would be altered for all time.
“That’s ridiculous,” she scolded herself. It’s the kind of ridiculous thing that men think about themselves, but it’s never true. You know that. It can’t be.
The idea that she might fail in her objective to avoid marrying Matteo terrified her. But somehow, even more, the idea that she might leave here without... Without knowing what it was like to be with Javier was even more terrifying. And she despised herself for that. For that weakness. Because it was a weakness. It had to be.
Without thinking, she slipped out of bed. She knew where his room was. She had studied the plans to the palace, and she was familiar with it now. Had it committed to memory. She had a great memory; it was one of the things that made her good at business. And, it was going to help her out now.
With shaking hands, she opened up the door to her bedroom and slipped down the corridor. It wasn’t close, his chamber.
But suddenly she realized. That wasn’t where he would be. She didn’t know how she knew it, she just knew.
Where would he be?
His gym. That made sense. She had found him there that day, and the way that he was committed to the physical activity he was doing was like a punishment, and she had a feeling he would be punishing himself after today.
No. She stopped.
He wouldn’t be there.
The library.
He would be in the library. Somehow she knew it. He would be looking at the same book that she had been earlier. She could feel it.
It defied reason that she could. And if she was wrong... If she was wrong, she would go straight back to her room. She would abandon this as folly. All of it.
She would leave it behind, and she would find another solution to her predicament. She would use her brain. Her business acumen.
Right. And you’re still pretending that this is all about avoiding the marriage?
She pushed that to the side. And she went to the library.
She pushed the door open, and the first thing she saw was the fire in the hearth.
But she didn’t see him.
Disappointment rose up to strangle her, warring with relief that filled her lungs.
But then she saw him, standing in the corner next to the bookshelf, a book held open in his palm. The orange glow of the flames illuminated him. The hollows of his face, his sharp cheekbones.
But his eyes remained black. Unreadable.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you,” she said. “And somehow I knew I would find you here.”
“How?”
“Because you wanted to read the story. You wanted to see how it ended.”
“Happy endings are not real.”
