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“Well, if you’re going to drink it,” she says, picking up the drink Hannah made me, “I will. Courage and lubrication in one. Chin, chin.”
My chuckle dies a quick, suffocated death when I glance at the doorway. Henry’s scowl stabs me in the chest. His anger suffocates me. The print of his hand on my throat pulses as though he commands it to strangle me for doing what he has told me not to. And like he really does own me, my feet meander to him. Eating the distance between us until I’m standing in front of him.
“I’m sorry.” The apology leaves my lips as he grasps my hand and takes me away without a single word.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
HENRY
“Why do you insist on disobeying me at every fucking chance?” The door slams as my question grates from my mouth. Before the echoes of it fade, I cage Eve to the back of the door with my arms.
“Disobey you,” she scoffs back at me with a frown. “Disobey you like I’m beneath you.”
“What?”
“Pardon, Your Grace.” There’s no humour in her endearment or affection. Eve’s glaring at me like I’m the one that’s being stubborn and difficult. “Isn’t that the right way to talk?”
“Now’s not the time for your sass or petulance,” I snap back, and she’s quick to retort, “What about your unreasonable reactions and volatile behaviour?”
The clench of her jaw tightens as she grinds her teeth in frustration. When she pushes me away, I take a step back. This isn’t one of our usual verbal sparring matches where she barks and I bite. Something’s wrong. I can see it in her eyes, and I felt it before she left me earlier.
“I told you not to go in there,” I remind her, taking another step back so that she can move away from the door. “You get here and you come straight up to my suite. Those are your instructions.”
“One rule for me and another for you.” A wry laugh escapes her as she comes away from the door. “Why? Because you’re better than me? Your title and your family somehow make you superior. Is that it?”
“What’s gotten into you?” We were having a pleasant enough evening. At least, I thought we were, but as always, it becomes twisted or fucked in some way. I don’t know how else to appease the grudge she has against who I am and the world I was born into.
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” she states, turning for the door.
That’s her go-to defence mechanism: lash out and then run away. I don’t run, though. I’ve always liked facing things head-on.
“Walk out of this room and you won’t like what happens.”
Spinning to face me, she levels me with an indignant glare. “Stop threatening me!”
“It’s not a threat.” I keep my voice level despite the anger roiling inside me.
I thought tonight was a good night. I thought we’d turned a corner. It appears I was wrong.
“It’s a fact. I won’t run after you. Whatever this is, is over. My eyes will never look at you again, and my hands will never touch you. You walk away and we’re done.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” she whispers down at her feet with a crack to her voice that causes a lump to form in my throat.
I don’t want her to go. Whatever we have between us isn’t ready to be done. I’m not ready for it to be done. I don’t think I’ll ever be.
“If that’s what you truly want, Eve, walk out.”
Walking to the bed, I sit on the edge like I’ve done so many nights. I stare at the spot where she normally sits. The thought of watching her leave is bleak, and I know that listening to her walk away will be just as unpleasant. But it’s her choice to make, and I won’t force it either way.
“You know where the door is.”
“Yes,” she bites back, “and I know how to use it.”
“What are you waiting for, then?” I glance at the mirrored door on the wardrobe, watching as she faces the door and her hand hovers over the doorknob.
Unease fists my lungs with every second that ticks by and she doesn’t make a choice. I’m teetering on a knife edge while she refuses to decide.
“Eve!”
