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“Your Grace.” I choke out the title that’s become my endearment of him. The emotion is almost too much to contain as it prickles up my throat and stings the back of my eyes. “Henry…”
“Are you jealous now?” he murmurs over my lips, nudging the tip of his nose with mine. When I shake my head, incapable of answering without blubbering, he crushes a quick, hot kiss to my lips. “Good.”
Pulling me back tightly into his side, Henry combs his fingers through my hair with one hand while the other reaches across us and holds my face tucked into his chest. The rest of the ride is peacefully silent. The thick air crackles with all the things he said and all the things I can only feel because they seem too crazy to speak out loud.
“My meeting won’t take too long,” he tells me as we arrive at Hush, and he helps me out of the car. “Wait for me in the suite.”
“Okay.” I nod, even though the last thing I want is to let him go, but whatever this meeting is about has him tense the second we walk through the club doors.
Tonight isn’t as busy as yesterday. There’s an air of unnatural stillness as Henry walks me to the bottom of the stairs with my hand held tightly in his, our fingers woven together.
“There’s someone I want you to meet later,” he tells me, giving my hand a light squeeze.
“Eve?” a deep, familiar voice calls from behind me.
When I turn, I’m greeted with a confused stare. “Casper.”
“What are you doing here?” he asks, ignoring Henry completely as he steps closer. The lion tattoo on his neck reminds me of Joe. He had an identical one on his bicep. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this dark cloud of grief over me. The guilt of how things ended is a sucker punch I’m not ready for.
Why’s he here? Casper’s married. He has kids and…and so do most of the men in this place.
“Eve’s with me,” Henry answers on my behalf, tugging me into his side before he wraps his arm around my shoulders and whispers into my hair, “Are you okay?”
No. I haven’t seen Casper since Joe’s funeral. He promised me he’d bring my brother back. He never did.
Nodding, I muster a smile. “I’ll wait for you upstairs.”
Concern is etched into the drawn lines of Henry’s face. I don’t know what he thinks, but I’ll explain later. Once I’ve had a moment to process the jumble of feelings whirring inside me. Affection, grief, anger, disappointment, and fear all shake into a cocktail that’s headier than any drink I’ve ever had.
“I’m fine, Your Grace,” I whisper, trying to forcefully tug a smile onto my lips with a light caress to his jaw.
The false smile is for him, but the touch is for me. I need to feel him. To focus on him—feel, scent, warmth—to pull myself from the storm brewing inside me.
“Eve—” A large hand grasps my wrist suddenly as I take the first step up. “—wait.”
“Let go.” The choked yell rips from me in a torrent of breath that pushes from my lungs.
“Now, Gladstone,” Henry orders with a brusque push of Casper’s chest and a tug of my wrist from his grasp. “Touch her again and you won’t walk back out of here.”
Casper doesn’t reply or push back as he stares between Henry and me. Nothing has changed. He never said much when Joe was spiralling into chaos, and he hasn’t said anything since.
“Henry,” another man calls from the shadow of the corridor. “Your Grace, we’re not here to quarrel.” The prime minister steps forward, coming to his son’s rescue as always. It’s the reason Casper’s alive and my brother isn’t. His life wasn’t as important after he’d served his purpose. This is why I hate them. All of them. Rich, powerful bastards.
Turning to face me, Henry gives me a top-to-toe glance. His hands are balled at his sides, and the lines of his face are sharpened with indignation. It’s as though he’s checking that everything is in its rightful place—that I’m not ruffled—before he relaxes slightly.
A barely there smile softens his expression. “This won’t take long.” I acknowledge his statement with a nod. “I’ll come get you when I’m done.” Another nod. “Go on.”
When he reaches for my hand, I pull back. I’m an idiot. Henry’s the reason I’m here. The reason I keep coming back. The reason I’m turning around and taking each step up to the red suite, even though my whole being wants to be anywhere but here, surrounded by riches and grandeur. I’m betraying Joe, myself…all for him.
Henry was right; he takes, and I give. I keep giving even when I hate him, and to the point I hate myself.
“Don’t you look glum?” Mary calls ahead of me as I reach the top step. “It’s a shame you look like you’ve been stung in the arse when you’re all dressed up pretty.”
The grin on her face is so wide it reaches her eyes. She’s gleeful, and there’s something about the way she carries herself that exudes confidence. Nothing seems to faze or get to her. I wish I was like her—able to keep my cards close to my chest.
“Oh Lord,” she sighs. “What’s he done, then?”
“Hi,” I chuckle at her brassy demeanour.
