Chapter 89

Agnes

Thea cornered me at the kitchen island the next morning, planting her hands on her hips with that stern look on her face—so much like her father—that immediately made it clear that she had a bone to pick.

“Are you and Daddy in love yet?” she demanded.

I nearly dropped the coffee mug I’d been holding. “What?”

“You went on a date! And now you’re all smiley!” She leaned forward, furrowing her brow at me with a seriousness that went beyond her years. “So? Are you?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Had I been smiling? I glanced in the window, taking a peek at my faint reflection; and sure enough, my mouth was tugged up slightly at the corners, faint smile lines betraying my inner emotions.

But I quickly schooled my expression before turning back to face her.

“Thea, it’s not—”

“Don’t lie,” she chided, waggling her finger at me. “Adults are always lying, but I can tell. You and my daddy are finally falling in love, just like the knight and the princess in my book.”

Elijah chose that exact moment to stride into the kitchen, his tie already perfectly knotted and his hair still damp from the shower. His eyes flicked between us as he paused in the doorway. “What are you two arguing about now?”

Thea opened her mouth, but I cut her off with a frantic wave of my hand. “Nothing! We’re… nothing. Want some coffee?”

He raised a brow but didn’t argue, taking the mug I shoved toward him. His fingers brushed mine, lingering for just a split second too long, and I yanked my hand back like I had just been burned by that simple touch.

Thea’s knowing smirk in the background of the entire exchange made me want to crawl under the kitchen island, curl up, and die there.

Thankfully, though, she didn’t press the matter. But I had a feeling that this was far from over with her. The girl was nothing if not persistent.

Work that day was a merciful distraction. The first iteration of the fashion show outfits hung on racks in the studio, ready for the next round. Next week, the models would arrive for their fittings before the final edit. Next week, this would all feel real.

But today, it just felt like noise.

“You look like you saw a ghost,” Gertrude said by way of greeting, plopping her lunch bag onto the stone picnic table where we’d been sharing our breaks as of late.

I stabbed at my salad. “I’m fine.”

She unwrapped a sandwich the size of her head, tomato guts oozing out the sides. As she took a seat, she shoved her glasses back up the bridge of her nose with one finger and cocked her head at me. “You don’t look fine. Is it Alpha Elijah?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Sort of. You’ve got a look about you…”

I frowned, furrowing my brow. “What sort of look?”

“The look of a woman who wants to vent about her man.”

I nearly choked on a crouton. Gertrude was no idiot, and she knew all too well the truth behind the relationship that Elijah and I shared, or rather lack thereof. I suspected that a lot of people had that feeling. I had won the Mate Trial, after all, which was the only reason why we were ‘together’. It wasn’t as if Elijah and I had gone through a romantic dating phase before getting married.

Finally, I sighed, setting down my fork. I rubbed both hands over my face, then pressed soothing circles into my temples.

“That bad, huh?” Gertrude asked.

I shook my head. “It’s fine. It’s just… complicated, that’s all.”

Gertrude paused, considering my vague words. “If you feel strongly about him, then you should just tell him,” she said after a moment.

As if I didn’t try that already. But the mate bond with Olivia constantly stood in our way. I knew very well that that was the main reason why we couldn’t be together; perhaps Elijah did feel something for me, but he couldn’t feel all of it when his wolf was still fixated on her.

Even if, according to my wolf, he was supposed to be my mate once.

Before my wolf left me. Or before she was… stolen from me.

I couldn’t focus the rest of the day. Every sketch I started ended up with the color of Elijah’s filling the lines. Every fabric swatch felt like his hands brushing mine. By the time I got home, my nerves were completely frayed at the ends, like a ribbon unraveling.

Later that night, after Thea was fast asleep in bed, I paced my room relentlessly. I tried to get to sleep myself, but I couldn’t. Rather, I found myself standing in front of my closet, staring at my reflection. I had slipped into a nearly-sheer black nightgown, the type that had a seductively lacy frill around the bust. And underneath…

I knew I was being ridiculous, and perhaps too bold for my own good. But as I looked at myself, carefully winding strands of hair around my finger to create the perfect little tousled waves, I couldn’t help it.

I had to try. If I didn’t at least do that much, then I feared I might never have a good night’s rest again, what with those constant fantasies playing in my dreams like a never ending movie.

The worst he could say was no, right?

A few minutes later, I was padding down the hall, shivering in my nightgown with a cup of tea balanced on a saucer in my hands. I paused more than once on the way to Elijah’s study, considering going back to my room before I really humiliated myself.

But I kept going, even if I knew it was a bad idea.

The study door was cracked open when I approached, golden light spilling into the hall. I peered inside to see Elijah sitting at his desk, his brow furrowed as he scribbled notes in the margins of a report. The lamplight caught the faint silver streaks in his dark hair, the sharp angle of his jaw.

My bare feet were silent on the rug, but he looked up the moment I stepped inside. His pen stilled on the paper.

“Agnes.”

His voice was calm, but his throat bobbed as his gaze swept over me—the lace clinging to every curve of my body, the necklace resting in the hollow of my throat, the way my hair fell in loose waves down my back.

Carefully, I began to cross the room, making an effort to sway my hips and appear as unbothered as possible. Truthfully, I had practiced this walk in my head a dozen times already tonight, but now my hips felt stiff and my knees shaky.

“I brought you some tea,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint tremble in my voice. Of course, the cup rattled in its saucer as I held it out, betraying the truth.

He didn’t take it.

“That’s not why you came.”

I hesitated, and the cup rattled against the saucer a little more loudly. “What?”

“You didn’t just come to bring me tea, did you?” he asked, standing slowly—too slowly. I swore the room shrunk around us as he rose to his full height, and I shrank along with it. As he came to tower over me, his voice a low rumble in his throat, I felt like a mouse beneath his heavy gaze.

“I-I—”

Suddenly, my hand jerked and the cup tipped, sending hot tea liquid sloshing over the rim and onto the saucer. I gasped, but Elijah caught my wrist before I could spill more and took the tea from my trembling hands.

He set it aside without looking, his eyes never leaving mine. His hand never left my wrist, either.

Then, with the utmost care, he leaned so close I could feel his warm breath spraying across my neck as he spoke.

“Why have you really come here like this, Agnes?”