Page 45 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
I fought against the heat creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. “No,” I managed, straightening my tie unnecessarily. “I’m just wondering about our capacity to pull that particular element off.”
Priya cleared her throat, looking between us with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, if you’re going to play boyfriends, you’ll need to work on your chemistry. We can have a trial run, if you like. I’ll give you marks out of ten.”
I shot her a withering glare, but she continued undeterred.
“Lovers tend not to stand two metres apart at all times,” she said, gesturing to the considerable gap between Rory and me. “Perhaps try beingat least thirty centimetres close to each other? And maybe stop scowling at him quite so much, Maxwell.”
Flynn leaned forward, joining in with enthusiasm. “You’ll need pet names too. Maybe not “dickface.” Just saying.”
“And physical affection,” Priya added, her eyes twinkling. “A kiss on the cheek could be quite effective. Perhaps you could have a practise now? Try not to growl at him, Rory.”
The room erupted into laughter. Even Sebastián’s lips twitched at the corners. I silently begged the hotel’s foundations to collapse and end this torment.
Rory remained unusually quiet. No snappy comeback, no mocking grin—nothing. My eyes drifted to him, finding his expression unreadable, his gaze fixed on some invisible point on the wall.
Against my better judgement, I let my barriers slip just slightly, reaching toward his thoughts. I needed to know if he was completely repulsed by the idea, so I could refuse the assignment without causing a scene.
But when I brushed against his consciousness, I found his mind curiously blank, as if he’d retreated deep within himself. What di—
A jolt shot through me, like touching a live wire. The sensation wasn’t painful but intense. Rory’s head snapped up, his eyes locking with mine as if he’d felt it too.
The room faded away as we stared at each other.
No, that definitely wasn’t repulsion radiating from him.
It was something else entirely.
7
Rory
Idragged my suitcase behind me, the wheels clattering against the uneven pavement outside my block of flats. My -navy-blue winter coat was stifling in the mild sunshine, and sweat was already prickling at my hairline. Completely inappropriate for London, but Scotland would be colder.
Scotland.
I could hardly believe I was actually going back there. The thought soured my stomach, sent adrenaline flooding through me. My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape, which, honestly, fair enough.
A tiny squeak emanated from my coat pocket, followed by scratching against the fabric. Freddy always knew when I was distressed. He had an uncanny sense for my moods—probably because he was literally dead and therefore somehow mystically connected to my anxiety. Or something?
“Shh,” I whispered, patting my pocket gently. “I know it’s hot in there, but it’s the only way to smuggle you past Detective Dickface.”
The main reason I was wearing this massive coat was so I could sneak Freddy along. No way was I leaving him behind. He’d miss me too much. I’d found him last night in the kitchen cupboards at Killigrew Street Hotel, where he preferred to live rather than our flat. Kit’s fault—he claimed Freddy gave him the creeps and was horrible to him.
“Listen, mate,” I murmured to the lump in my pocket. “You’ve got to keep very still and quiet until we’re well past London, yeah? I’ve got snacks in my other pocket that I’ll keep feeding you.”
Another squeak, which I chose to interpret as agreement.
I looked up and spotted Maxwell sitting in a car—not his, but a sleek red Audi. His mother’s car, he’d explained over text messages. An extra security precaution.
As I approached, Maxwell’s expression was completely unreadable. The reality of how much time I was about to spend with him suddenly hit me like a bucket of ice water, and my feet froze.
We were about to be stuck together for days on end, if we even survived the endless car journey. Stuck with his judging eyes, his barely concealed contempt. And Scotland… God, Scotland was where my life had fallen apart. What if I had some kind of breakdown and Maxwell witnessed it? He already thought I was a reckless liability. The last thing I needed was to give him more ammunition to prove I didn’t belong at Killigrew Street. The familiar feeling of not being wanted sank into my bones, settling like a cold weight.
Maxwell frowned at me so deeply his glasses slid down his nose.Great. I was already annoying him, and I hadn’t even said good morning. Not that I would have said good morning anyway, but still.
When I find you, you better be fucking grateful for this, Dev.
My new boyfriend wound down the window to glare at me. “Rory, what are you doing?”
