Page 51 of Hearts of Stone

At that unspoken threat, the three of us moved closer to stand directly behind our mate. No one at the table would say anything about that, because each one of the families had some sort of paranormal familiar at their beck and call. They used them, used us to ensure the other families didn’t move against them, so we made clear we would not tolerate any attack on Jade. My hands came to rest on the back of her chair, where our mate sat, exactly like a queen surveying her recalcitrant courtiers.

“This isWhiteleyHouse,” she said again, making the point with emphasis, and Adam’s grin just got wider. “Not First Families’ House or even Savoy House.”

“Now, Jade—” Mellors was forcing himself to intervene from the sidelines, but I caught the gleam in his eyes. If we were her knights, he was her advisor and he needed to be seen doing his job.

“Am I wrong?” She leaned forward then, skewering each one of them with her gaze. “If I am, I’d appreciate the situation beingexplained to me. Because from my perspective it seems like it is exactly as I’ve described.”

“It sounds like you’re after a history lesson, then,” Adam replied, nodding slowly, before continuing, with a twinkle in his eye, “my queen.”

Chapter 29

Jade

Right now I was doing my best to exude Big Wallet Energy. It was a vibe Daniel and I had tried to put into words, representing the people who swanned into the supermarket as if it was the catwalk, stalking the aisles and pushing past other shoppers to get what they wanted, then wrinkling their nose when they got to the checkout and were required to wait their turn, or worse, had to put their own stuff through the self-checkout. It wasn’t a natural state for me, but still, you couldn’t manage a supermarket without being able to go toe to toe with difficult customers some of the time, so that’s what I designated each one of the men around the table.

Then Adam Stuart spoke up.

“It sounds like you’re after a history lesson then, my queen.”

Damn him.

You know how some people are so damn pretty, it's like a punch to the gut the first time you see them? Well, that’s what it was like when I saw him across a not so crowded room.

Except this wasn’t the first time I’d seen this man.

It’d taken me a second to realise where I recognised him from and then I flushed bright red in response. Under me, in my dreams the first night I’d slept at The Eyrie, those full lips parted as he urged me onto greater and greater heights of pleasure. His hands digging into my hips, forcing me to work harder, fuck him faster, right before he took over and held me still, rutting up into me. His eyes felt like they burned into mine as he said the words.

“Never fear.I’ve got everything you need.”

That’s exactly what a dream lover should say. But the man here in the room with me? He looked across the table at me with a sly smile, long, sensitive fingers toying with his glass of amber whisky, as if he too was remembering what he had done with them the other night while I slept. Because what woman wouldn’t want an insatiable lover who knew every single thing you liked, even the secret ones, then called you his queen? I blinked and forced myself to focus back on the issue at hand.

What the fuck was this place?

“A history lesson would be useful,” I conceded. “A heads-up about the nature of this organisation would be even better.”

“Is that entirely necessary?” One of the stuffed shirts sitting at the table directed the question to David, not to me. “Let the girl meet some of our lads and choose which one she wants to take as husband, then she can toddle off to the ladies’ club and leave us in peace.”

“My Jonathon is newly single,” another said to the rest of the men. “That fling with the foreign girl didn’t pan out.”

“Never does,” said another, with a shake of his head. “We do try to tell them, but they need to understand that we have certain expectations of our ladies. And, really, some girl from the Continent…?! What was it her father was involved in?”

“Shipping or something,” the father said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Very lucrative, which would’ve been a nice addition to the family fortunes, but I’ve got batteries in mykitchen drawer with more power than her. I told him no suitable children would come of that marriage, but would he listen—?”

“Um… excuse me?” I said, clearing my throat, because that helped the growing feeling of hysteria.

“Of course, he sees himself as a modern man, says that his worth should come from what he achieves in the human world, not from his powers,” the father continued, talking right over the top of me. No, actually that would have indicated he was listening to me at all, which wasn’t true. He continued lambasting his son to the others, rolling his eyes as he said, “I asked him if that meant he was relinquishing his trust fund, which of course got him spluttering.” All of them had a little snigger then. “It’s all very well to put about that you’re a self-made man, but most of the younger generation have no idea what that actually entails.”

Oh my god, did I know what that was like. People seemed to do two things wrong in a supermarket. Some paid way too much attention to you, trying to hold you personally responsible for every single issue they were having, within the shop and beyond, asking too many personal questions or not even bothering to look for what they needed, thinking somehow you were there to be their personal shopper.

Then there were the others.

They treated you like you were invisible, just a piece of machinery doing the work they would never lower themselves to complete, even though they literally wouldn’t have any food to eat or toilet paper to wipe their own arses without us selling it to them. That’s what these men were doing right now, speaking like I wasn’t even there.

Except for one.

I cast an angry glare right around the table. When I reached Adam, his smile grew sharper. As I stared at him, he winked conspiratorially.

Which somehow was enough to get me moving. I jumped to my feet, slapping both my hands down on the table, loudly enough to break the flow of conversation, making the old men turn from their gossiping to look at me in irritation.

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