Page 40 of Brutal Crown

My hands are shaking, but I force myself to stay calm, pushing the wine shelf back into place as though nothing happened.

I’m not sure what I expect, but when I hear Marco’s voice, low and calm as he mutters to himself, my stomach tightens.

“Where is she?”

He’s standing right outside the cellar. He’s been following me.

His footsteps have stopped, so it must mean he doesn’t know I’m inside here.

My phone, which I’m also using as a torchlight, vibrates in my hand. I turn the screen to see a message from Marco.

“Meet me in the garden.”

I wait until I hear his retreating footsteps, wait until I’m sure he’s long gone, before I step out of the cellar. I’m exhausted, both mentally and physically.

My mind races with everything I’ve seen, but I walk toward the direction of the courtyard. I contemplate asking him about the books, but decide to find out more first. He might not even know about it. A tired sigh leaves my lips. I’m in no mood to talk to him, especially now that I know a little more about why his family murdered my father to keep him quiet.

The garden is silent as I step outside, except for the rustling of leaves. Marco is leaning against a stone pillar, watching me with those hazel green eyes. He pushes off the pillar when I come closer.

“Where were you?” he asks softly. “I was looking for you.”

“I was busy, taking care of one of the sick maids,” I lie easily.

Well, it’s not entirely a lie. Allegra came down with a fever this evening, and I checked up on her right before heading to the cellar.

He cocks his head slightly, like he knows I’m lying.

“Is that where the dust on your sleeves came from?”

I blink. My stomach tightens. I say nothing.

He walks toward me, each step slow, careful. “You’ve been avoiding me again.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You only get busy when you’re scared to see me.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“No,” he agrees, close now, eyes locked to mine. “But you’re scared of what I make you feel.”

I don’t move or say anything because I don’t trust myself not to annoy him with my words.

His fingers brush mine, just a light touch, but it sends a jolt through me.

“If I came down with something, would you take care of me too?”

A small smile plays at the side of my lips. “Pretty sure you’ve got expensive doctors for that.”

“What if I don’t want any of the doctors? What if it’s just you I want?”

He knows me too well. I see it in the way his eyes flicker to mine, studying me. I wonder if he thinks his touch has an effect on me or if he can see past that. If he can see the exhaustion in my eyes, the anger I have toward his family.

He leans in a little, just enough to make my breath hitch.

“Would you hold me like you did the night I told you about your father? Would you lie to me sweetly until I believed the world was simple again?”

“Marco…”