Page 25 of Deposed

My mouth opened, but the lie Henry and I had practiced disappeared from the forefront of my mind.

“Unless you’re plotting something.” Mrs. Bourneville drummed her French-manicured fingers on the table.

I froze. Last term, her words would have been the truth, but I’d already taken my revenge on Henry and the others. Now, I just wanted the boys to stop bearing a grudge.

My tongue darted out to lick my lips. “I returned to Mercia Academy expecting to hate Henry, but I couldn’t. That time we spend together as prisoners opened my heart to him, and I saw a side of his personality that only his friends see. It’s kind and loving and gentle.”

“What do you think of his business between him and Blake?” asked Mr. Bourneville.

“Just boys drinking too much absinthe and having fun,” I replied. “I was also in the room with them, and it wasn’t a big deal.”

The staff took away the first course and brought grilled salmon served with garlic-roasted broccoli, sautéed green beans, and roasted fingerling potatoes. We ate in silence, and I shared a glance with Henry, who gave me a grateful smile.

As soon as the staff took away that course, Aunt Idette’s head snapped up. “Why did you forgive him?”

“I didn’t at first. But it’s hard to explain what happened when I thought we’d been kidnapped. For those nine days and the time after that, I’d never in my life felt closer to anyone.” Saying these words made my heart hurt, because they were true. And the worst part was having to admit them in front of Henry. “I couldn’t stop thinking about him the entire time we were separated.”

“Yet you got engaged to that classical pianist,” said Mrs. Bourneville.

“I thought Sergei could mend my broken heart.” I lowered my gaze to my plate, wondering whether Henry’s mother was addicted to the society columns. “But it turned out that no one could compare to Henry.”

Henry leaned toward me and gave me a kiss on the temple. I raised my head and gazed into his verdant, green eyes. For a moment, everything stilled, and I was no longer aware of the dining room or his family. It was just Henry and me, just like it had been our last two days of supposed captivity.

“What a sweet girl.” Aunt Idette’s sarcasm snapped me out of my Henry-induced stupor.

He smiled. “Not as sweet as you’d think. She made me grovel for a long time.”

I tilted my head to the side and smirked. “I intend to make you suffer until I’m satisfied you’re truly repentant.”

Mr. Bourneville roared with laughter. “Good girl!”

I glanced up and met Mrs. Bourneville’s gaze. She gave me her first genuine smile for the day.

My shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t completely convinced them, but at least they no longer thought I was an outright liar.

After lunch, we walked back through the maze of hallways holding hands. His family seemed the type who would watch us through the security cameras, so I took the opportunity to bask in his presence. Being with Henry today had been so perfect, and the warmth of his affection couldn’t melt the shard of ice still lodged in my heart from his betrayal. The last door clicked shut, and the limo rolled forward from the shadows. Henry opened the door and let me in.

As soon as we settled into the plush, leather seat Henry scooted close, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed the side of my mouth. “You were wonderful! I didn’t know you felt so deeply for me.”

“Maybe once.” I elbowed him hard in the stomach. “But now, you can go to hell.”

Chapter 9

Henry recoiled from the elbow in the gut, and his face slackened into an expression of wide-eyed shock. His broad shoulders drooped, and he seemed to crumple into the leather seat of the limousine. I met his hurt, green eyes with a defiant glare, but he still had the nerve to choke out the words, “What was that for?”

I pushed back the tiny twist of guilt in my belly and snapped, “Didn’t you hear a word of what I said to your parents?”

The limousine pulled away and made its slow ascent through the darkened, underground parking lot. The external lights occasionally illuminated the side of his face, exaggerating his wounded expression.

“I…” Henry drew his brows together as though trying to work out the trick in my question. “You said you’d fallen for me in the squat. Was that a lie?”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“From the moment I opened my eyes, you knew it wasn’t a real kidnapping, but you played along. You watched them inject me with goodness-knows-what, let us sleep on a filthy mattress, and let me wallow in fear and paranoia for nine days.”

His shoulders drew up to his ears, and he dipped his head. “We needed the money to help Edward’s father.”