Page 15 of The Mourning Throne
His damn annoying cousin nipping at his heels.
They rode the elevator up in silence.
Or,Morganwas silent.
Lex kept sneaking glances at the mirror in the corner, adjusting the collar of his shirt, tousling his hair. Did he look hot enough? Cool enough?Expensiveenough? His reflection stared back: messy in a way that fitOhio, not London.
It was overkill.
He didn’t need to look different.
But while he was here? May as well improve every damn thing about himself.
Shopping was necessary.
Maybe a week in designer jackets would wedge some of that bone-deep, don’t-fuck-with-meconfidence back into his spine.
Maybe he’d walk like Morgan.
Maybe he’d feel like Morgan.
Maybe, just once, someone would look at him likehewas the one to be afraid of.
The elevator dinged—soft and chimed, too elegant to announce itself any louder.
Lex stepped out first.
And stopped.
“Thisis where we’re staying?” he asked, neck craned back until it cracked.
The lobby stretched in every direction. It was moreglassthan wall—floor-to-ceiling panels that reflected the best views of the city. Recessed lighting glittered across polished marble. Mirrored columns blinked like they were watching. There were art installations hanging from the ceiling, angular and huge. Heavy-looking. Some abstract thing probably worth more than Lex’s entire life.
“You picked it out. Don’t you remember?” Morgan asked, voice already teasing.
Lex rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Morgan, I wasgone. I don’t remember shit.”
“I can always cancel the reservation.”
“No—no, it’s really cool. I like it. It’s…” Lex turned slowly in place, sneakers squeaking on the floor. The windows swallowed the skyline, everything below soft and far away. All of it dressed in black and accented by the huge chandelier. “Doesn’t it remind you of—”
“Our ancient house?” Morgan said. “Yes. Hence my surprise.”
Lex didn’t know what to say to that. For a second, he just stood there, blinking into the lights.
Honestly, he was going to saymuseum,but yeah—it did look like their house.
Not the layout, exactly, but the feeling.
That same kind of hush.
Like the walls were waiting for something to start.
“Home away from home, I guess,” he muttered.
Lex didn’t say anything until he had both feet inside the suite.
He didn’t want to get his expectations too high. The last place he stayed had been so disappointing it still haunted him when he drove by—he’d spent months wondering what made the carpet sticky and why no one had cleaned the hair out of the shower.
