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I don’t trust him. And maybe that’s Eden’s problem too. He’s rough around the edges, like he wears barbwire for show, but I’ve seen a different side of him recently. There’s no way in hell I’m trusting him first, though. Despite the fact that he may have more reason to hate the Knights than I do. As much as Eden does.
And Oliver? He’s obviously just here for Eden. Plain and simple.
I’m walking a tightrope of everyone else’s lies. I let a partial truth slip the other day—and I’ll gladly do it again as long as I know it’s not going to come back and bite me in the ass.
You never know what will happen where the Knights are concerned, though. We’re all in their game. They make the rules. They make the odds.
We’re just their pawns.
31
Eden
Ipull up to the address Oliver texted me. No context, just a number and street. I really didn’t want to attend classes today, anyway. Not after Leo’s outburst.
Leaning forward, I catch a glimpse of the large, stately house with manicured bushes surrounding its perimeter. In the front lawn stands a huge maple that’s shed its beautifully colored leaves, only a few still hanging on, dancing in the wind.
The house itself is only a mile away from campus, but I don’t know why I’m here. I trust Oliver with everything, though, so I park in front of the half-moon shaped steps and make my way toward the black door with a brass lion’s head knocker.
I hit it once, and nearly jump back when a man in a bowtie opens the door for me. “Miss Astor, you’ll find Prince Oliver in the drawing room.”
It’s one of the servants Ollie brought with him that first night. I’d never thought about where they were while he was staying in Jarvis Hall. I assumed they’d made their way back to Britain, but I guess not. “Thank you,” I tell him, and when I walk in, he graciously shows me the way.
The large swinging doors that must lead into the drawing room are wide open, and I spot Oliver’s halo of brown hair. He’s sitting on a settee, one ankle crossed over his knee as he reads a book.
I sigh when I see him. I only knew he’d left when I found a note on my dresser this morning. Things had been weird between us since the epic sex we shared, but I never expected him to leave.
Anger tumbles through me. I charge into the room. “Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean—”
Muffled cries come from the corner of the room, and I swing my gaze to find Keegan blindfolded, gagged, and tied up in a chair in front of a huge fireplace. He’s sweating profusely, pit stains growing down his silver button-up shirt.
“Well, hello to you too,” Oliver says in greeting.
I peer back at him. “What the fuck is this?”
He closes the book. “You want answers. I’m giving you answers.”
“Did you…kidnap him?” I screech.
He beams. “I did. All by myself. The staff thinks I’ve gone mad.” Just as he says it, a servant walks past the room, brows raised into her hair. Oliver glares at her, and she scurries away like she’s stepped in a pile of red ants.
“This is what you left for? To get Keegan?”
Keegan’s muffled sounds pitch higher, but we both ignore him. Oliver sets the book on a coffee table and stands, a sad smile pulling at his lips. “I want you to know I believe in you, Eden. I’ve been quiet and moping, but it isn’t your fault. You have so much going on right now, and I’m only adding to it. So, this—”
“Is a present?” I ask, trying to guess.
He tilts his head. “I guess it is.”
As presents go, it might be the most heartfelt one I’ve ever received. What the fuck does that say about me? I peer over at Keegan, who’s in obvious distress. “So, what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to interrogate him.”
“Do we know how to do that?”
“If you’ve ever sat at a table with my grandmother, trust me, you’re well aware of the gist.”
I roll my eyes. “Ollie…”