starts and turns at the sound.
I lean against the jamb, allowing myself a moment to truly drink him in. He’s ditched the tuxedo jacket and loosened his satiny tie. His hair is still collected in a bun, making the emotions he wears all the more prominent.
“I thought I lost you,” I say softly.
He empties the tumbler and turns back to the window.
“You’re upset.” I fully enter the room and shut the door behind me. “Because of Arden.”
“Your friend, right?” I don’t miss the icy emphasis on the noun.
“He’s not my friend. I’m not sure why he introduced himself that way. He’s doing some work for my mother. That’s all.”
“Right,” he mutters.
I take another step toward him. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Is that why you came here tonight? To tell me the truth?” He’s still talking to the window, and the avoidance is driving me crazier than his insinuations.
I come closer. Close enough to touch him. “I came here to see you.”
After a long moment, he tilts his head, giving me the full weight of his stare. I lift my palm to the wall, letting it buffer the impact of all the longing and frustration collected in his blues. They’re the color of midnight in a graveyard, and my senses rail with matching desolation. But with speed I’ve gained from years of focus and experience, I shove back the feelings and straighten my posture.
After pulling in a cleansing breath, I pull my hand from the wall and reach out for him instead. Another wave of emotional tumult threatens my composure, but I’m tender about running my fingertip over the pretty silver cuff link at his wrist.
“I like this formal look on you.”
“Do you like the jealous look too?”
I blink up at him, schooling my features. I didn’t chase after him to get into a fight. His bait isn’t going to work. “I’m learning to appreciate all of you, actually. Even the pieces of you that are unexpected.”
He inhales a deep breath and releases it slowly. “Kara…”
“Maximus?” I embrace the gift of saying his name again. Right now, because it’s just us, I can pretend it’s an offering to him. A prayer of adoration. “I’m serious about this. What will it take to prove it to you?”
His gaze narrows, giving away his inner debate before I can even sense it. “All right, then. Tell me something about you. Anything. I want to know you better than a random stranger off the street who reads about you in the headlines.”
“You already do.” It’s the truth, but I already know it’s not enough. It won’t satisfy him. Not this time. “Who’s the person in your life you’re closest to?”
He blinks in confusion. “Jesse, I guess.”
“Because of what happened when you were little?”
“Not necessarily. We were friends before the accident. I’d like to think if it never happened, we’d still be.”
I smile, recognizing little tendrils of my own jealousy forming. The person I’m closest to is forbidden. The same way Maximus will be if anyone finds out we’re flirting with a relationship together.
“Why are you asking me? We’re supposed to be talking about you, remember?”
“I know.” I close my eyes with a sigh. “My grandfather is that person for me.”
“Giovani Valari? The screenwriter?”
I nod. “He lives in my mother’s guesthouse in Beverly Hills. No one’s allowed to talk to him. I spent years figuring out ways to see him without getting into trouble. I still do.”
He winces. “He’s your family, though. Why on earth would they do that?”
“We were really close when I was little. Then things changed. I never understood why. It’s just the way it is now.”
“And you just accept it?” He shakes his head, and I know there’s nothing more I can say to help him make sense of it. But he deserves to know what we’re up against.
“Just know that it’ll be the same with you. If they find out about us, they won’t just cluck their tongues and then come around. They’ll forbid it. Kell’s already told you as much.”
His jaw tightens. “Because I’m not a rich celebrity? I can’t whisk you away on my yacht and play the red carpet charades?”
The defensiveness in his words tears at my heart. “No,” I protest at once. “That has nothing to do with it, I promise. The Valaris already have more money than they know what to do with. To the point where it has less value than other things.”
“Like what?”
“Like…tradition…control…power.”
“I don’t understand what any of that has to do with you.