Page 79 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“Don’t rush.” I go as Finn leads me out of the room, and I throw a hand in the air in farewell. “I’ve got things to do before I tear her down fully.”

His dark chuckle follows us, chasing us down with the echoes of his amusement.

“He’s helpful,” I muse once we’re out of his earshot. “I’m surprised.”

Finn peers down at me, one eyebrow quirked. “Don’t be. He likes a challenge, and you’ve just given him one. Not to mention that beneath that crispy exterior of his, he rather enjoys a bit of gossip.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll have more fun—and success—than I would.”

He stops in front of me and rests his hands on his shoulders. “Hattie… Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“I figured you’d probably ask him anyway, and it’s not like—” I pause, meeting his gaze. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something an awful lot like… “Wait, are you jealous that I asked him instead of you?”

Finn clears his throat and looks away. “What do I have to be jealous of?”

I take his chin between my finger and thumb and tug his face back, studying each sharp line of it. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re pouting.”

“I don’t pout.”

“You’re pouting,” I repeat with a smile. “Don’t be so dramatic. I only brought that information just in case. I didn’t know if he’d want to help me or not, and I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“Hey.” He catches hold of my wrist and presses a kiss to the inside of it. “It’s not a bother with you, Hattie. Ever. If you need something, just ask. I told you I’d give you anything you want, didn’t I?”

“You did,” I say softly. “But—”

“You’re not ready to trust me just yet.” He smiles, but a ghost of hurt flashes through his gaze.

“It’s not like that. I just—”

“It’s fine,” he says, although it’s clear he’s bothered by it. “Yes, it hurts that you don’t fully trust me given our relationship, but I understand. You need time. My feelings are not your responsibility, and I don’t want you to force yourself to do something that you aren’t comfortable with.”

I swallow.

God, he’s too nice to be dragged into my bullshit.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, curling my fingers into a fist. “It’s not your fault. I’m used to being alone, and this is so personal, and I…” I take a deep breath before slowly letting it back out again. “It’s really not your fault.”

“Hey.” Once again, he uncurls my fist. He slides his fingers between mine, interlocking them, then brings our clasped hands to his mouth where he presses a lingering kiss against my knuckles. “I’m not blaming you. Don’t think that I am. I understand. Don’t feel bad for how you feel. We’re in this together—a partnership. I knew what I was signing up for when I walked into that hotel room. I wish you would trust me, but I can’t make you. I’ll simply wait until it happens.”

“Thank you.” I step forwards and rest my forehead against his chest. His presence is so calming and grounding. It’s the same feeling as stepping outside for the first time in a while and turning your face into the sun.

That soft, soothing warmth that slowly trickles through your entire body.

That’s what Finn feels like to me.

The sun.

He cradles the back of my head and tilts his down, pressing a kiss to my hair. “My only request is that you keep me informed, all right? Don’t hide things from me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what you’re up to.”

I nod against his chest. “I will.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”