“Hardly an excuse, but whatever.” Jude picked up my phone from the dresser, and I didn’t stop him. “You already have my number saved. How?”
I slipped my feet into my black pumps, and uncaring that he was in the room, I stripped off my yellow sundress and replaced it with a dark gray cocktail one.
It sat over my chest like a snug velvet blanket, the bell skirt exploding around my hips to meet my knees in what resembled an upside-down umbrella. I shoved my hand inside the bodice and pulled off my bra, flinging it onto the bed. It had one built-in, so I didn’t bother with a strapless.
“Jesus,” I heard him mutter. He then cleared his throat. “My number. How and why do you have it?”
“You no doubt saw my old walk-in back home.” He didn’t answer, which I took for a firm yes. I dashed into my bathroom, knowing he’d follow. He did, leaning against the doorframe with my phone still in hand while I applied some mascara and lipstick. “How do you think I took the pictures of you?”
I didn’t need to look in the mirror to know he’d stiffened. His voice was a little hoarse, as he said with a low laugh, “You used my phone.”
I gave him a thumbs-up. “Clever boy.” Then I got to work on fixing my hair. With no time to fix the rogue mess of curls, I settled for quickly straightening the top half and then fluffed the ends with a spritz of hairspray.
Jude was still standing there when I turned around. “Ready.”
Smirking, he eyed me up and down before handing me my phone. “Let’s go.”
He left my room, and I stuffed my phone into a tiny black purse with my keys before following him downstairs.
I locked and closed the door behind me, noticing he’d left the passenger side door of his car open. Yeah, not happening. I swallowed down the kernel of curiosity to see if his car was still crystal clean and headed for my own.
Inside, I put the car in reverse, and the sensors immediately exploded. “What the hell?”
In the camera, a dark green suit and slivers of skin could be seen, the rest of his hands inside his pockets. “Seriously?” I called and turned down the volume as he rounded the car and opened my door. “What are you doing?”
“Out. We are enemies on the same team, get in my car.”
“I’d rather not go at all.”
My gaze moved from the glimpse of skin at his neck, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone, to his eyes. They flashed with humor. “Not an option, unless you’d like to lose a fingernail.”
“What?” I felt my face scrunch.
“You heard me.” He reached in and hit the ignition button, then reached around me, his scent smothering and drowning my senses, to unlatch my seat belt. Pulling back, he stayed leaning inside the car, his face inches from mine to enunciate in a heated whisper that reeked of minty breath and honesty, “There are consequences for missing annual events such as this. You must attend, and we must attend together. Out.”
I waited until he’d stepped back before moving. He then fetched my purse and closed the door. “Lock it. You never know when the campus vultures come out to play.”
“Okay,” I said, doing so as we climbed into his car. “Vultures?”
“The non-island folk who come from no money think it’s cute to search unlocked cars and homes for expensive belongings and cash.”
My brows jumped, and he turned, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the drive even though he had a reverse camera, too. Our cars were exactly the same model, the only difference being the color and all the fancy exterior extras on his.
Yes, I’d picked it right after I’d seen him bring his home. A decision I felt immensely stupid for now.
Straightening the wheel, he muttered, “There is sheltered, and then there is January Denane’s daughter.”
“Hey,” I snapped, clipping on my seat belt. “She wanted to protect me.”
“She wanted to find a way to keep you out entirely, knowing that would never be possible,” he said. “She should’ve spent more time preparing you.”
My comment was more snide than I’d intended. “What, like your dad did?”
“Precisely.”
I blinked, and then I snorted. “Seems there were many cons to that, too, what with your stellar personality and those inner demons and all.”
He couldn’t refute that, just clenched his jaw and took off down the street.
We sat in silence for the twenty-five-minute drive, and as we sped into town and past our old homes, a pang fluttered and spread inside my chest.
Studying the impeccable interior of Jude’s car, I wondered where Henry was. Not a speck of dust lingered on anything. He would’ve been horrified when he’d opened the door to mine and spotted the gum wrappers and lipstick in the center console, the smudges on the buttons and the screen in the dash.
Whatever. I wasn’t a slob; he just had outrageously high standards.
“Where’s Henry?” I decided to ask as Jude pulled into The Ribbon and drove down the side to the rear where a valet had been set up.
“Sleepover with one of his school friends.”
It made me smile to know the night terrors hadn’t chased his childhood away in that respect.
“He told me you read to him,” Jude said. “I didn’t know until the wedding.”
I’d come to learn the dark prince’s voice grew lower, rougher, when he wanted something and when he was feeling a certain way about something. The cold apathy vanished, if only for fleeting moments.
I didn’t know what to say to that, being that one of the reasons Jude had been cruel to me at school appeared to be associated with the fact I’d introduced myself to his brother. So I said nothing and opened my own door before the valet or Jude could do so, needing away from the heavy air that’d infiltrated his car.
The young man with a large dark tattoo on his neck, dressed in a black vest and matching slacks, nodded at me, then took the keys from Jude. “Evening, Mr. and Mrs. Delouxe.” He nodded at Jude. “Your father is already here.”
“Thanks, Timmo.”
Hearing my new surname out loud knocked me sideways a little. Jude took my hand in his, and I couldn’t help but feel a little thankful. “What’s the tattoo around his neck?” I murmured out the side of my mouth. Warm and firm, his hold was beginning to feel all too familiar once more.
I hated it. I hated that I didn’t hate it enough.
“I don’t know, a zombie badger or some shit.” Jude nodded at two security guards near the elevator. “Why don’t you ask him?”
The suggestion was evidently a barb at what he deemed to be my less than appropriate evenings spent with other guys.
“Rude,” I said, watching as he pressed the pad of his thumb to the screen inside the elevator.
“Me? You’re the one spreading your legs even though you’re married.”
I bit back my instinctual retort, deciding with, “Like you haven’t spread someone else’s, hypocrite.”
The doors opened. Jude coughed down a laugh when his father’s brows rose. “Hi,” he said, eyeing me curiously. It was unnerving how he was so much like his son, except for the eyes.
I struggled to find my voice. “Hey, uh, I mean, hello.”