Page 73 of Vexatious Queen

I smirked at him. This was why I filled my tray. There had been too many times that I’d grabbed an apple only to have someone eat half of it. Bunch of thieves.

“Have you talked to your father about the painting?”

“No. It feels like a scab I should leave covered until I make up my mind. No need to pick at old wounds if there is no need.”

“Fair, but I don’t think you need to protect your father. He is…one of the steadiest and most resilient people I’ve ever met. It’s easy to see where you get it from,” Liam said, and the spoon stilled on the way to my mouth. His lips curved up. “Don’t look so surprised, Little Rabbit. I don’t fall in love with just anyone.”

Liam winked, and heat spread across my cheeks until my ears burned.

“You have an unfair superpower, Liam Hicks,” I mumbled.

He sat back in his chair, and the look in his eyes could dissolve underwear everywhere.

“What power is that?”

“Stop it, you know what you’re doing,” I ordered, but instead he ran his bottom lip through his teeth.

My mind blanked as I tried to think of something smart to say. I jumped when someone approached the table. Dean Henry’s face was somber when I looked up.

“I need you to come with me,” he said softly, and my spoon dropped into my soup.

“What’s wrong,” I asked, terror immediately choking off my air supply.

“Someone is here to speak to you,” Dean Henry said.

I looked at Liam, then back up at the dean, who gave nothing away.

“I’ll come with you,” Liam said, and I nodded.

Lunch forgotten, we followed Dean Henry to his office.

Liam kept his hand on my back, his warm touch comforting. It was the second time in two weeks that I had been called into the dean’s office. A new record for me.

We stepped inside and found a man sitting in one of the chairs with his back to us.

The door closed with a soft click as he stood and turned, and I was very glad that Liam had come with me.

He might be twenty years older than the pictures we found in my mother’s room, but there was no mistaking Vadin Mikhailov…my grandfather. He was dressed in an expensive grey suit, just a shade darker than his hair. His blue eyes were glacial, and despite his age, he stood tall, his shoulders back and hands clasped in front of him.

“Hello, Lilya, it has been a long time,” Vadin said.

He didn’t smile or try to hug me, and with just a glance, he took our measure.

My pulse pounded loud in my ears, but I kicked the shock to the side and stepped forward, appraising him with the same cool stare he had given me.

Thoughts of my mother crying filled my mind. Wanting to know anything about Vadin felt like a traitorous act now that I was face-to-face with him.

“Dean Henry says that you received my gift.”

“It was never your gift to give, but yes, it arrived,” I said, and the tiniest crack in his exterior showed with the lift of his lip.

“You certainly have your mother’s spirit,” he said.

“Are you here to try and break mine like you tried to break hers?”

The room was silent except for the clock in the corner, ticking each second like a time bomb.

“I don’t think her spirit could ever be broken. As I said in my note, I have many regrets now that I’ve had time to look back and reflect on what is and is not important. What transpired between your mother and me is one of those regrets.”