Blackmailing His Bride (Court of Paravel) - Page 68

I keep turning the pages of the newspaper to the social section, and see the full-page picture of Lady Sachelle Balzac and Jakob Rasmussen with their arms around each other, posing beneath a tree in Royal Park. Conspicuous on Sachelle’s finger is a sparkling diamond engagement ring. I can’t help but smile as I look at them. Good old Jakob. I always liked him.

There’s more common blood marrying into the First Families. More members of the First Families marrying out of them. I hope everyone marries someone of vastly different status from now on and the whole ridiculous system collapses. I’d like to see the monarchy be dissolved, but at least it’s a constitutional monarchy now, with King Anson as a symbolic leader rather than an absolute ruler like King Gregor and Queen Penelope were. To my surprise, I like their son. It’s a shame he’s a king and not a president we all voted for. Then I’d like him even more.

I’m still smiling when I look up from my newspaper into the face of the man sitting at the next table. A handsome, dark-haired man with bright hazel eyes.

My mouth goes dry and my heart plummets through the floor.

There are a few flecks of silver at his temples. In time, he’ll probably grow completely silver like his formidable older brother, though he’s unlike the Archduke in almost every other way.

Galen Levanter freezes as his eyes meet mine. Tentatively, he smiles at me. “Hello, Tilly.”

My childhood nickname. What he always used to call me, until he started calling me something else. I’m frozen in place, and before I know what’s happening, Galen has stood up and is coming toward me. With a jolt, I recognize the charcoal gray sweater he’s wearing. One that fits his broad chest snugly, though I was swimming in it when I pulled it on over my naked body. Why did his clothes feel like safety?

The press of his lips. His arms around me. Bunny, you look so fucking cute like that. No one in the whole world to intrude on us. To tell us that what we were doing was wrong.

Bad.

Dirty.

Sinful.

“How have you been? I’ve been following your achievements at the Home Office. What wonderful things you’re doing.”

There’s a panicked buzzing in my ears. My gaze darts left and right, searching for an escape. Jakob, knew, didn’t he? He suspected what we were up to, all alone in Galen’s big house and playing games we shouldn’t have been playing while Dad was out. And Dad was always out.

His smile grows strained. “Everyone keeps talking to me about you. It’s torture.”

Torture is having him this close. Like grasping a wire with an electric current running through it with both hands. Excruciating. Paralyzing. Everyone thinks Galen Levanter’s the epitome of kindness, strength and intelligence. The self-made man with blue blood and a difficult but faultless past. I’ve seen a side to Galen that would scandalize half of Paravel.

I quickly gather up my things and get to my feet. As I move past him, he grasps my arm, pain filling his eyes. He must be able to feel me trembling.

“You still won’t say even one word to me, Tilly? Not one? Not even you asshole? I’d settle for that. I’d be happy to hear you say that.”

I shake my head, staring at the door, my escape. I don’t dare look at him, let alone speak to him, no matter how much it makes my heart ache.

“Why?” With that one word, I can hear his own heart breaking all over again.

He knows why. Because of a vow I made.

To my father.

To the divine.

To myself.

There’s nothing Galen Levanter and I have to say to each other. Nothing. Even if he were the last man on earth, even if we were handcuffed together or trapped in a prison cell, I wouldn’t utter one single word to him. Not after everything that happened.

Not after what he did.

Not when no one knows the truth but us.

The real reason my father died.

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