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He draws a deep breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose, then turns his attention to Archie.“See to it that she goes directly home.”
“Yes, sir.”Archie nods, giving me an apologetic smile.I don’t blame him, though.It’s not like he can disobey a direct order from the king.Not unless he wants to risk losing his job.
“Good.”My father looks at Anderson.“Let’s get back to our seats.People will be wondering where we’ve been.It’s best we not give them any more fuel for the fire, so to speak.”
Anderson hesitates, obviously torn between his loyalty to me and his obligation to the crown.
The story of our lives.
“Go,” I tell him.“I’ll be fine.I could use a night off.”
“Are you sure?”
I force a smile.“I’m sure.”
“Okay.”He leans down and presses a kiss to my temple.“I’ll stop by in the morning to check on you.”
“Thank you.”
He holds my gaze for another beat, then follows my father back into the theater, Creed and his father trailing closely behind.
Before he closes the door, Creed’s eyes find mine.I can feel his indecision all the way across the room.It’s like he wants to believe me, but the logical part of his brain won’t let him.
And Creed Lawson has always been a sensible, rational man.
Could they be right?Could it just be my brain playing tricks on me?
It would be a much easier explanation.Lack of sleep and increased stress can cause the brain to behave differently.In all likelihood, that’s all this was.
Then why did it feel so real?
ChapterEleven
Creed
I shouldn’t be here.If anyone were to check the security footage and saw me lingering outside the front door of Esme’s apartment after letting myself into the building with the code I’m only supposed to use when escorting her to and from official events, I would be summoned before the board of misconduct.
Or discharged.
But I couldn’t just go home and forget about tonight.
I tried.
All I did was toss and turn, the rational part of my brain at war with the part that knows this can’t be a coincidence.What are the chances Hayes Barlow would mention a guy with a scar, then Esme would bring up seeing a man with a scar along his right jawline mere weeks later?
I’m not a statistician, but I have a feeling the chances are pretty slim.
Regardless, I hated the idea of Esme thinking she was alone.
I saw how people looked at her earlier.
I saw how her own brother looked at her.He wanted to believe her, but he had his reservations.
I’d probably have reservations myself had Hayes Barlow not broken into my house last month.
Now it’s all I can think about.
Mindful not to look directly into any of the security cameras, as if that’s going to help matters, I punch my code into the keypad.But before I can finish, the door swings open.Esme stands less than a foot away in a robe, her hair a disheveled mess on the top of her head, eyes drooping from lack of sleep.
