Page 82 of Reluctantly You

When I don’t answer right away, Rory pulls his lips between his teeth and cocks his head. “I think it looks happy, don’t you?”

“Guess so,” I murmur, even as my eyes track across the flowers a shapely woman is surrounded by. “Seems she’s surrounded by a lot of beautiful things.”

“Yeah, she is,” Rory replies and then links his arm with mine. Gideon is staring at me intently, and I feel myself blush, hoping no one notices through the bright lights above us.

“Gideon says I can talk your ear off about the artwork. Is that okay?” he asks me.

“Sure. I guess.”

He grins at me and then pulls me forward, his arm linked through mine as we move to the next piece on the wall, a picture of what looks like a dark green willow tree hanging down into a cobalt blue river. Calmness, tranquility, and depth seem to punch from the canvas and I hold my breath, trying to calm my heart.

“I love this one, don’t you?” Rory asks.

“Yeah, it’s peaceful.”

“It is. I’ve always wanted to sit under a weeping willow, read a book, and watch the water trickle by.”

“Yeah. Same.”

Gideon’s eyes are still on me and I peer over at him under my lashes, trying like hell to keep my thoughts at bay. But the more we move around the room, the more thoughts Rory pulls fromme. I’m opening up, letting my feelings about the artwork on the walls spill from my mouth.

Rory just nods, encouraging me in that gentle way of his, and by the time we make our way through most of the canvases, my throat hurts from talking. Gideon is quiet the entire time, taking it all in, continuing to watch me closely. I don’t know what he thinks of me, if this has changed how he perceives me, and suddenly I’m nervous.

Maybe this isn’t what he wants.

Why do I fucking care what he thinks?

“I’m going to get a drink,” I murmur, as I make my way over to the open bar, needing some liquid courage. Gideon and Rory have their heads tilted together as if speaking secrets to one another, and it makes my chest constrict.

What the fuck are they saying? Are they talking about me? Making fun of my thoughts and feelings that they so carelessly pulled from me?

I don’t fucking know.

“Whiskey neat,” I demand, and the bartender arches an eyebrow at me.

“Long night?”

“Something like that,” I grumble as he hands me a cup. I swallow the amber liquid down and set it on the bar top, tapping it slightly. “One more.”

He nods, pouring me another as I glance around the room. Gideon is no longer chatting with Rory, moving away to speak with an older gentleman. My eyes take Gideon in, the curve of his ass, the span of his shoulders, before I force my gaze around to find Rory.

I swallow my next pour down as my eyes settle on him. Something’s not right.

He looks pale, his body tense. My gaze tracks to a man across the room, making his way toward him. He’s a bit older butsmarmy, an air about him that oozes black smoke and gray wisps of evil.

My fists clench when he stops in front of Rory and reaches out to grab him. My gaze flicks to Gideon, but he doesn’t notice, too focused on the man he’s currently speaking with. There’s no time.

No fucking time.

I move without another thought, my feet leading me to Rory. The closer I get, the more I realize he’s shaking, a nervous tremble that smells of fear.

Reaching out, I pull him into me, removing the man’s hands from him.

Rory sinks into me, and I narrow my gaze at the man, brimstone seeping from me.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” I growl, my voice low and threatening.

Rory turns his face into my chest, his hands clasping my sides.

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