Page 75 of The Devil's Hunt

"Yes, darling," she sighed, her eyes glossing over with nostalgia. "You and Archer were inseparable when you were younger. You two used to spend hours playing hide and seek in the gardens. Your mother was dead set on arranging a marriage between the two of you."

"I had no idea. Why hasn't Archer mentioned any of this to me?"

"Oh, honey, once your mother died, your father wouldn't let you come over and play anymore. I am not sure if Archer even remembered you at that point. I mean, he was only ten when your mother passed. He had a rough go of it when he no longer saw you, sulking inhis room, writing you letters he begged for us to send to you. He missed you." She gave me a sad smile and looked over at her son.

She reached for my hands and held them tightly in hers. "Not a day went by that I did not think about you. I would search the newspaper to see a picture of you with your father or a few of your accomplishments. You've always been such a smart girl. Occasionally, someone in our friend group would mention you, and I always felt sad that you had disappeared from our lives. You were like a daughter to me. And your mother would have turned in her grave if she knew that your father had kept you from us."

I grabbed the closest glass of champagne and downed the whole thing, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

"Are you okay, love?"

I cleared my throat. "Why didn't my father tell me about you, about Archer?" I asked her.

"I don't know. I tried calling many times, but he never returned my calls. Your mother made me promise to take care of you when she passed, and I feel like I failed her." Her green eyes welled up with tears. "Seeing you tonight brings back so many memories. I am so thankful that you and Archer found a way back to each other. I want to think your mother played a role in this. God rest her soul."

I stared at her, my eyes searching hers to see if she was lying. But I didn’t think she was. As if she could sense my hesitation to believe her, she pulled her phone out of her clutch and started scrolling.

"I recently had all of our printed photos scanned and put into an online album to preserve them," she said as she concentrated on her phone screen. "Let me see... oh, here we go."

She turned her phone to face me, and on the screen was a photo of my mother as I last remembered her, healthy and full of life, me as a little girl, and what I could see was a young Archer with his unruly dark hair, and his green eyes. She continued to swipe, and I was filled with memories of tea parties, chasing ladybugs, and playing hide and seek, him chasing me through the gardens. Memories flooded my mind, and I saw his face, the sweet smile and mischievous grin he still gave me. The way he protected me and the way he made me laughuntil my stomach hurt. I saw my mother sitting at the patio table, reading a book and drinking coffee as she watched us run around. Then, Eleanor was there, her wrinkles gone, but with the same warm smile she offered me now.

My stomach dropped as the memory of my mother's funeral appeared, the rain pouring down on us. I felt the pain of losing her all over again, and the pit in my stomach grew. Then, I remembered overhearing a fight between my parents before my mother died. My father was throwing things, yelling at my mother, telling her that I was no longer to have anything to do with the King boy or their family. He wanted my mother to cease contact with Eleanor. Something about a business deal and how the Kings were controlling and didn't want anyone else to do better than them. My mother argued with him, told him how wrong he was, and that his greed would be the death of him. That she wouldn't let him drag me through it. She would take me far away from him. He was not the man she married. My father told her he'd kill her in front of me if she left.

"Mila? Mila?" Archer's voice ripped me out of my flashbacks, and I turned to look at him, tears in my eyes. He touched my cheek and looked accusingly at his mother. "What the hell did you say to her?"

"I told her about her mother and how the two of you played together as children until her mother passed away." Eleanor looked distraught and gave me an apologetic look.

"What are you talking about?" he asked her.

"She's telling the truth." I handed him her phone, the picture of us together still on the screen.

Archer studied the screen, swiping his finger to look through the album, and a look of shock flashed across his face. I could hear a video playing in the background, a child's voice counting to ten and then announcing,"Ready or not, here I come!"There was heavy breathing and then giggles that I knew belonged to me."I found you,"he said."I'll always find you."

He looked up from the screen, smiling as the realization hit him too. "I didn't remember, Mila. I do now, but I forgot. I'm sorry."

I pulled him to me, wrapping my arms around him, burying my face into his neck, and letting my emotions flow into him.

"Fate decided you were mine a long time ago," he whispered in my ear, careful to keep this moment private between us.

I let him hold me for a few moments before I sat back and waved a waitress to our table. "Leave it all," I instructed her, and I grabbed a glass and took a big sip.

"Mila, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," Eleanor apologized again.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mrs. King. Now, my father, on the other hand…" I trailed off as I searched the room and found my father sitting only a few tables away, laughing and entertaining a carnival dancer on his lap.

"I need to go find Cassian, but I'll be back. Please don't leave without saying goodbye," she almost pleaded, her green eyes full of turmoil.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured her, sipping my champagne and staring daggers at my father.

29

TWENTY-NINE

ARCHER

Isat stunned after learning that Mila and I were playmates when we were children, and angry that neither of us remembered each other. How I could have forgotten someone like her was beyond me. The knowledge that had been revealed sent a barrage of memories passing through my thoughts. I remembered pulling the pigtails she always wore and chasing her through the grounds as she tried to hide from me. She was never very good at hiding, something that hadn't changed as an adult. I watched as she drank several glasses of champagne, staring daggers in her father's direction. I could see the wheels turning in her brain as she gripped her glass tight between her slender fingers.

While I enjoyed watching her direct her anger toward her father, I needed to bring her back to me. I put my hand in my pocket and found the remote. I watched her face when I turned it on, and when her amber eyes fluttered out of her daze and landed on me. I was instantly hard. She set her drink down on the table and squirmed in her seat, sighing as her fingers squeezed the delicate stem of her glass.

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