“Hm?” I don’t remove my head from his shoulder. I like it here, and he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Kenneth is your perfect guy. I was right all along.”
Rolling my eyes, I commend him, “Yes, yes. You’ve seen right through me from the start. Pat yourself on the back.”
“AndI’myour Kenneth.”
My heart thumps. Something too warm saturates that line. His arm wraps around me, and I dare to pull my head up, look at him.
He catches my chin between his fingers, tugs my waist so our legs are flush on the bench. The strong way his spread fingers indent my skin and skim my thigh stuns me to silence.
“What does that—”
“Alexander.”
My heart leaps, and all the warmth in Lex’s gaze dies. Instantly.
The harsh, firm tone of his name isn’t said in the kind way that his house staff offers. It isn’t said in the way I always do either.
It’s violently stern. Even if it isn’t angry.
Lex’s gaze drags off my face, past me, and focuses back there, toward the entrance to the room.
Taking a breath, I dare to turn my chin out of Lex’s hold and find the man in the doorway.
Tall, like Lex. Dark hair and green eyes. The only conceivable difference is age.
Thatis Lex’s father.
A crisp woman stands behind the man, the only sign of surprise evident in the way her eyebrows mildly elevate above her serious blue eyes.
“Yes, Father?” Lex grits.
The man takes a breath and fixes his attention on me. “I don’t recall when I allowed you to have a young female friend over this late.”
“Funny,” Lex murmurs. “I don’t recall when you told me you’d be back this early.”
The woman behind Mr. Hawthorn adjusts narrow glasses. “Due to an unexpected weather report, the business trip was unfortunately cut short.”
“Unfortunately,” Lex echoes. His hand around my waist doesn’t slip away. It tightens.
“I’m told dinner is nearly prepared. Why don’t we have a talk?” The man’s gaze narrows on me. “All of us.”
~*~
I didn’t know a dinner could be more tense than the one Lex and I had with my mother, but I’m nearly ready to faint. I don’t know why. It isn’t like I’m doing anything wrong, right? In this society, it isn’t like Lex’s father is going to accuse me of doing simply horrible things to his son, right?
I’m the frail little flower, not Lex.
I sit beside Lex at the table, his father at the head and his father’s assistant in the place that was mine once, on his father’s left. I didn’t know where to go when we walked into the dining room and Mr. Hawthorn called for more place settings. Lex was the one to drag me firmly to his side. And his hand rests on my thigh now. Like he constantly has to keep a tab on me.
I don’t know what to do with the emotions that come in response to the feel of his tight grip on my leg.
“You’re dating.” Mr. Hawthorn starts, serving himself first. “When was I going to be told?”
“No,” Lex states plainly. “We aren’t.”
His father’s brows dip, but he lifts his fork and knife. “I don’t remember raising you like that.”
