Page 60 of The Queen
Eliza smiles at each of us, her eyes gleaming with the knowledge of our shared bond. Moving closer, her lips meet mine in a kiss that seals my vow. It’s swift but filled with a promise of passion.
She turns to Raphael, her kiss with him is power and darkness. Tarquin receives a kiss that speaks of mutual respect, a silent acknowledgement of the fortress we’ve built around her. Oliver’s kiss from Eliza is fierce, brimming with the intensity that defines him.
Each touch of her lips is a brand, marking us as hers in front of everyone at Castle. As she pulls back, her expression is one of love and mischief that sends a dark thrill skittering over my skin. She is up to something, and I can’t wait to hear what it is.
Reaching for her, I lead Eliza down the stage stairs, weaving through clusters of people, their eyes tracking every move. Myparents stand near the side, glasses in hand, a careful distance from the heart of the party.
“Mum, Dad,” I say as we approach, “this is Eliza.”
My mother’s warm smile widens as she takes in Eliza’s presence. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she says, her tone genuine. My father nods his greeting, a measured look in his eye as he appraises her.
“Same here,” Eliza replies with that cool confidence of hers. She shakes their hands, her grip firm. “You have outdone yourself with this one.” She winks at me, and I hide my smile.
My mother grins as she sees it. “Oh, I know, but thank you. It’s nice to be appreciated.”
My dad remains silent, his distrust of all things Hughes stopping him from being warmer. Not that he is all that friendly, anyway. He is a cold, brutal killer down to his core.
Oliver moves next to Eliza, shooting a grin at my parents with that effortless swagger only he can pull off, and takes her hand.
“Eliza,” he says, turning her to the left, “these are my parents.” He introduces her, who echoes my parents’ sentiments with polite interest.
As she engages in a polite conversation after Mrs Sterling hugged her so hard I thought I heard a rib crack, I turn to Raph.
“Where’s your parents?”
“They chose to decline,” Raphael states coldly.
“Any particular reason we should be concerned about?”
“Nope, just making a statement that will not go unnoticed. It’s strategy. It will bring rumours and conspiracies right to Eliza’s door about why he snubbed her.”
“Damon is going to go feral,” I murmur, scanning the area for him, but it seems he has left.
“When has that ever stopped Rafe Carver from doing anything?”
“Besides,” Tarquin adds. “There’s something weird going on between him and our mum.”
“Tarq!” Raph barks at him with a glare so fierce it could burn strips off him.
“What?” he says with a shrug. “There is. It’s worth mentioning in case this isn’t a big conspiracy to fuck Eliza over.”
“Weird, how?” I ask with a frown.
“Trouble in paradise,” Raphael murmurs, his gaze going back to Eliza. He frowns as he looks over her shoulder.
Turning, I see it too and step forward in between her and the server carrying a tray of champagne-filled glasses, who has made a direct beeline for her.
“She doesn’t drink,” I state, arms folded.
He gives me a shrug and moves on. Maybe it was spiked, maybe it wasn’t, but we can’t be too careful. Not tonight. It’s the perfect time for someone to make their move on her and us.
After more small talk with the parents, they say their goodbyes as they and the staff start slipping away.
“We need to talk,” Dad murmurs as he passes me on the way out.
Giving him a swift nod, I don’t fuss over it. He has questions, but I have answers, so it’s a matter for another time.
The Great Hall transforms, the energy morphing into a kegger that nearly blasts the roof off the ancient building as the music is turned up.
