Chapter 60

Iris

The next morning, I’m holed up in my studio again, finishing up the static television painting. Miles is playing on the floor by my feet—he’s barely left my side all morning, too shy of the new nanny to be alone with her.

Not that I can blame him, nor do I mind. It’s nice to hear him talking to himself and making airplane sounds as he plays with his toys.

I’m just finishing up the final brushstrokes, inky black to represent the dark room surrounding the television, when my phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen to see Alice’s name staring up at me. Curious to see what she needs, I answer.

“Hello?”

“Iris,” she says, and I can hear her usual smile through the phone. “I have a teensy-weensy favor to ask of you…”

I set aside my brush, pinching my phone between my shoulder and ear as I wipe my hands on a nearby rag. “What’s up?”

“So, the Ordan Culture Society has this annual charity gala, and I just got an invite. I’m allowed to bring a plus-one, but I don’t have a date, and honestly, I’d rather go with you anyway. What do you say?”

“When is it?”

“Tonight.”

For a moment, I hesitate, toying with the idea of going. It’s awfully last-minute, and if Arthur isn’t going to be home tonight, I’m not sure if I feel comfortable leaving Miles with the new nanny just yet.

Alice, sensing my hesitation, adds, “There are going to be a lot of high-profile Ordan artists and gallery owners there. It’s really good for networking.”

That changes things. Making connections in the art world is crucial, even more so now when I’m trying to get better footing in my career. I glance down at Miles and consider how important it will be for us to have our own place again. For all I know, I might meet the right people who can put a good word in for me at Abbott Gallery, which would be a huge boon for us.

Still, I have a lot of work to do on my presentation, and I don’t want to leave Miles alone after his harrowing day yesterday. So, despite the urge to say yes, I tell Alice I’ll consider it and let her know as soon as I can.

“Alright,” she sighs, sounding a little disappointed. “I guess I can go alone, but if you change your mind, please let me know!”

“I will,” I say, feeling a little bad. “I promise.”

After that, we hang up and I turn back to my canvas, my eyes scanning the painting one last time. It needs to dry before I put the coat of finish on top.

Just as I’m about to ask Miles if he wants something to eat, I hear the front door open and close downstairs. I crack the studio door open and peek out into the hallway, expecting to see Arthur or even Mrs. White.

But instead, I’m both surprised and disappointed to see Selina ascending the stairs.

She stops at the top of the stairway, her eyes locking onto mine with a predator’s efficiency.

“Oh,” she says, her nose wrinkling with something I can only describe as disgust. “You’re here.”

Just seeing her after that awful news report the other day makes my blood boil. I close the studio door behind me, not wanting Miles to be exposed to her cruelty.

“Hi, Selina,” I say, folding my arms. “Arthur isn’t here right now, if you’re looking for him.”

Selina rolls her eyes and struts past me, heading straight for Arthur’s room. “I know he’s not here,” she calls over her shoulder.

Her tone makes me bristle. In private, it seems her sweet demeanor from the other day has completely dissipated, her usual sour attitude having returned now that cameras aren’t on us. I already had a pretty good idea before, but now I’m even more certain that she intentionally put on a show the other day, knowing fully well that we were being recorded and that it would make me look bad.

Sighing, I turn toward the studio again, not really in the mood to deal with her antics. But as she opens the door to Arthur’s room and steps inside, curiosity takes hold of me, and I can’t help but follow her. I pause in the doorway, finding her rifling through his closet.

“What are you doing?” I ask, feeling strangely protective over Arthur’s things. This isn’t the first time I’ve found her in his room unannounced, and frankly, I don’t trust her one bit.

She glances at me from the closet, then huffs. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re going through things that don’t belong to you,” I reply quickly.

Selina scoffs, as if I’ve just said something ridiculous. “He’s my fiancee,” she corrects me, as if that makes any difference. As if we’re not both fully aware of their arrangement and the fact that she has no claim over Arthur or any of his belongings. “Besides, I’m looking for a tuxedo.”

I blink. “A tuxedo?”

“Yes, a tuxedo,” she sighs. She pulls a garment bag out and struts over to the bed, where she lays it down and unzips it. Inside is a sleek black tux, and she runs her hands over the elegant fabric, inspecting it for flaws. “You know, the sort of thing people wear to nice events? Arthur and I are going out tonight.”

“What sort of event are you going to?” I ask, curious.

She glances up at me. “The type of event you’re not invited to,” she says, zipping the bag back up with a flick of her wrist. “It’s very high-profile. Charity.” Her eyes flick over me, lingering on my paint-stained overalls and the yellow cardigan with the hole in it, and then something malicious curls her red lips. “The sort of thing you can’t afford. But even if you could, it’s couples-only, so you can’t go anyway.”

My eyes narrow. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she’s most likely referring to the very same event Alice invited me to tonight, which means she’s outright lying. ‘Couples’ aren’t a necessity. She just doesn’t want me to go.

With that, Selina picks up the garment bag, hooking the hanger in the crook of her finger, and saunters past me. I watch her go, my mind racing the entire time.

She’s going to that event tonight with Arthur.

I know I shouldn’t care. They’re just going because that’s what’s expected of them as the Alpha President and future Luna of Ordan.

But… after realizing the other day that she really might have actual feelings for Arthur, I can’t help it. The thought of her going out with him fills me with a strange sensation of discomfort, purely driven by the bond that draws me to Arthur.

He’s my mate. What are her intentions with him, really?

Just then, my eyes move to the closet once more, catching on a shimmering length of dark fabric at the back. Curiosity piqued, I step into the closet and pull it out, revealing a glittery black gown that I once reserved for high-class events and date nights years ago. It trails all the way to the floor, its slender straps adorned with tiny crystals and its neckline plunging.

I move to the mirror and hold it up in front of me, noticing the way it seems like it would fit perfectly even now. It would look utterly stunning, just as stunning as the day I bought it. No, more than perfect, more than stunning.

I’d look… devastating.

My fingers brush across the soft fabric as I bite my lower lip, and in that moment, I make a decision.