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“He has to ride today,” I argued, albeit weakly. “He’s here to network. I can take care of myself.”
Adam just scoffed. “Please, spare me, Frankie. If that’s really what you think, you’re dimmer than I thought.”
I scowled. “Excuse me?”
“You think it’s easier to conduct business on horseback than mingling in a crowd full of rich, drunk people?” He gestured around toward the very men and women I imagined Xavier probably needed to be speaking to on Frederick’s behalf. On his own behalf.
I followed his gesture. Now that I looked around, it was obvious that certain people were doing more than just watching polo and gossiping. Across the tent, I caught sight of Frederick standing in a circle with his mother and several middle-aged men in expensive-looking suits. More than one of them pulled out a business card to give to Xavier’s stepbrother. Others pulled out their phones and took someone’s number. Notes were taken. Handshakes were exchanged. The same thing was happening all around the tent and in the stands too. And Xavier wasn’t a part of any of it.
Adam pulled me closer to speak directly into my ear. “Here’s another secret, Frankie. The Duke of Kendal is one of the richest men in the UK, second only to the crown and a very few older, richer aristocrats. He’s not here to network, honey. He doesn’t have to. They’ve been waiting years for the youngest duke in a generation to return to their little club. And they aren’t going to let him go just because he’s got a new American girlfriend. If anything, they’re going to make it as hard as possible for you to stay. And they’ll make your departure feel like his idea.” He released my arm, as if he’d just accomplished something particularly satisfying. “He’s not here to network, honey. He’s here to have his ego stroked. And he doesn’t need you to do it.”
I brought a gloved hand to my lips, as if I could taste the poison of his words. Suddenly, I could see it so clearly. The hunger in all these people’s eyes whenever they talked about Xavier. The utter disdain they had for me ran so much further than the fact that I was from another country.
I was infringing on territory they saw as theirs. The fact was that as soon as his parents’ marriage certificate was found, he was no longer the bastard son of Rupert Parker, a social outcast with funny eyes and too-black hair, but the true heir to the Duke of Kendal. He gained membership into one of the most exclusive clubs in the world. And you could only exit one way: death.
“But he loves me.”
My voice was small, like I was a child struggling to figure out why my mother kept leaving us. Trying to understand why she said, again and again, she would come back, but never did. Refusing to see the truth for what it was: that she just didn’t care.
“Does he?” Adam wondered. “Ask yourself this: are these the actions of a man who even knows what love is?”
It was like a pipeline to my innermost doubts. After all, hadn’t he told me that the very night we saw each other for the first time in five years?
I think we’re all lying when we say it.
Maybe fooling ourselves a bit.
Whether we want to admit it or not, there’s always something another person can do to ruin things.
I suddenly felt like I was choking. I was an idiot. Such a fool to think that he could change, really change, in just a few months. Xavier had told me from the beginning he didn’t believe he could ever really love someone. He thought that love was only real between a parent and a child.
Which meant that, sure, he had that with Sofia. I saw it every day when he looked at her and talked to her.
But that didn’t mean he loved me.
Not truly.
Not all the way.
“Frankie?”
I looked up to find Adam watching me with real concern. He reached out and touched my shoulder, chilled fingers lingering there a moment too long.
“There’s one more thing I know,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the bustle of the crowd. “I know if you gave me a chance, I could make you happy, Frankie. That’s all I need. One little chance.”
And then, before I could stop him, his lips were on mine.
They were warm, yes. And familiar. Sort of like a rubber hot water bottle, the kind that Nonna used to put at the end of our bed in the winter instead of turning up the heat.
I didn’t like them as a kid, and I didn’t like it now. Just like the last time Adam tried this, I felt absolutely…nothing.
He broke away, eyes bright, clearly expecting to see some kind of thrill reflected in mine.
Instead, I just started to shake as I set a hand on his chest and pushed him forcefully away.
“Oh my God,” I said. “Adam, what are you doing?”
“Yes,” said a voice that had rumbled through my dreams for five full years. “That’s just what I’d like to know.”
