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“I have.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I put a lot of thought into all things related to you. Particularly the events that led to your escape three years ago. Tell me who hurt you.”
I swallowed. “No one hurt me.”
“You lie like you breathe. And when we’re together, I make your lungs clench, Miss Abernathy.”
As if commanded by his words, a gasp escaped my lips.
“No one hurt me,” I stammered.
“Then who did you hurt?”
I looked over at August. From the looks of it, I’d hurt my best friend.
But it was for the best. I had to. I still had to.
“What does it matter to you?” I boldly asked. “What could a perfectly privileged man like you do?”
A storm of emotions crossed his face. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Christine. I was a lovesick fool when you left, and now I’m a ruthless man determined to stake his claim. We all changed that spring.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Ruthless? August hides behind his title. You hide behind your money. Have you ever let your knuckles bleed, Atticus? Have you ever taken matters into your own hands and clawed yourself out of a grave someone else dug for you?” I was goading him, fully aware that he had demons of his own. I knew on some level there was more to Atticus’s family fortune than he explained to me. You didn’t get to the top without stepping on people to get there.
He smirked as if he knew something I didn’t. There was danger in his smile, a secret I wanted to pry apart with my mouth. “One day, I’ll show you.”
Atticus had always been a mystery to me, a secret he crafted so expertly. I knew his family had insurmountable wealth; they had their fingers dipped into money streams crossing every industry. But there was something about him I didn’t understand. Something edgy and dangerous. He’d sometimes disappear for weeks at a time when we were young, showing back up looking pristine but with scrapes along his knuckles.
“You won’t get the chance. I’m leaving today, Atticus. They only force me back for funerals and weddings.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Are you saying all I need to do for some time with you is roll some heads?”
He was joking surely, despite the seriousness of his tone. “Or propose to some sorry heiress that wants you for your cash,” I replied.
“If there will be my ring on anyone’s finger, it’ll be yours,” he said. I chewed on my lip, my heart stalling. “You never answered me last night. Do you remember the night I kissed you?”
I shoved the smooth sheets off my legs and stood up, forgetting that I was only wearing one of August’s oversized shirts. It made the entire conversation feel even more uncomfortable than it already was. The queen would be scandalized. Aldrich had an unspoken dress code. Long, flowy dresses. Corsets. Hairstyles that took hours to recreate. “I try not to dwell on all the things that happened here before I left,” I admitted. It was an honest statement. Lingering in the past only paved a road that led to heartbreak. I was forging a new future. “And it was hardly a kiss.”
Atticus stood up. “I remember it,” he admitted. “Just the brush of my lips on yours, and you were practically melting for me. And then August showed up and you followed after him like I never existed. It never made sense to me. He was always so bloody blind.” I froze when Atticus cupped my cheek. This greeting felt rushed, like three years hadn’t passed and the man standing in front of me was still a friend. “I’m going to kiss you again, Christine. You’ll beg for it. Beg for me. Next time I get the chance, it won’t be a chaste tease. I’m going to devour you. You were meant for me. Always meant for me.”
His words stirred my soul. “Things change,” I whispered.
“Oh,” Atticus said while leaning down, “I’m counting on it.” We both had morning breath. His eyes were bloodshot from partying too hard the night before. His tie was loosened, and we were so close that I could see every strand of stubble lining his jaw. Atticus was perfect. Refined beauty. Rugged determination and grit tied up with a pretty bow.
He was a boy raised to want everything August had.
I didn’t pull away from Atticus because I wasn’t attracted to him, or because I wanted August more. The night I escaped this kingdom, I left him standing in a ballroom with his heart on his sleeve and rejection in his heart because I knew that he didn’t truly want me. I was just another toy he wanted to steal from August’s clenched fist.
“I should get dressed. I’m going to talk to the queen before my flight leaves,” I whispered. Atticus was still so close. Heat zipped between his palm and my cheek. I shifted my weight between my feet, and his brown eyes slipped down to stare at the short hem of my shirt and where it barely covered my upper thigh.
“I’d beg you to stay, but I liked you better gone,” he admitted.
“Why?” I replied with a frown. “Because you like having August all to yourself?” I wasn’t sure if their friendship was by malicious design or if Atticus acted on a convenient opportunity, but their relationship was all about checks and balances.
His expression soured. “Because it’s harder to pretend to like him when you’re around. The longer you are here, the closer I am to being convicted of crimes against the Crown. Go home, Christine. I’ll come to you.”
His lips found the corner of my mouth. It was chaste and teasing. Dark. Assuming. He pulled back with his arched brow raised before walking out of August’s suite.
