Page 21 of Brutal Reign

“I’m not joking. I was stuck in a roundabout for twenty minutes because I couldn’t figure out how to exit,” he says, running his hands through his hair in remembered frustration. “I nearly made myself sick going round and round. It was like being trapped in purgatory.”

“Which roundabout?” I ask, wiping tears from my eyes.

“Hyde Park Corner. I think I’m still technically going around it.”

“Oh God, you picked the worst one! That’s like choosing Mount Everest for your first hike.”

“Now you tell me.” His smile is devastating, all straight teeth and genuine humor. “In Sweden, we have sensible intersections with traffic lights. Here, it’s like some trial by combat.”

I’m relaxed for the first time in months, shoulders loose and defenses down in a way that feels almost foreign because it’s been so long.

“That’s why most people take the Tube and don’t attempt driving here. Plus, the whole ‘wrong side of the road’ thing,” I point out.

“Sometimes, I have no choice but to drive for work. Easier when I need to get out of the city.”

“Did you get to visit the museums I suggested?”

His mouth tightens slightly. “Unfortunately, not this time. I was busy with meetings and such.”

“Your job sounds pretty cool, though,” I say, fidgeting with my straw. “In another life, I think I would have loved to be a writer. But that’s not really in the cards anymore.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “How old are you if you don’t mind me asking? Early twenties?”

I nod.

“You have your whole life ahead of you. Why would you rule that out?”

I shrug. “Things didn’t turn out the way I thought they would. You know how it is.” I trace the rim of my glass with a finger. “So… how old are you?”

He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest. “A lot older than you.”

God, why is that so hot? I would put him in his late thirties. I’ve always been attracted to older men, and even though I don’t have much experience dating them, I don’t find age a turn-off.

He studies my face before his hand lifts and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“As someone who’s lived a good few more years than you, I know that life can kick you in the ass and deliver a different dish than the one you ordered, but I also know we’re capable of more than we think. Even in shitty circumstances.”

“Yeah, well, I’m doing my best.” A note of defensiveness creeps into my voice.

“I’m sure you are. We all are.” He taps his finger against the rim of his glass, then clears his throat. “When I was fifteen, I lost both my parents in a car accident. One phone call, and what I thought my future would look like… vanished.”

I blink, caught off guard by his openness. “I’m sorry. That’s horrible.”

“It was a long time ago, but it changes you, you know? Makes you realize how quickly everything can fall apart.” He meets my eyes. “And also how resilient you can be when you put it all back together. Even in the worst of circumstances, there’s hope.”

Hope. I shiver hearing my real name inadvertently fall from his lips.

I shouldn’t share my story, but something about his honesty makes the words spill out. “My mother died when I was eight.” I swallow hard. “My father, he didn’t handle it well. We don’t really speak anymore.”

He nods slowly, understanding passing between us without need for more words. “I’m sorry. That’s young to lose a parent. To lose both parents.”

“Yeah, well.” I take a sip of my drink, needing the burn of gin to steady myself. “Life, right?”

“Life,” he agrees quietly.

I don’t notice the space between us shrinking until our knees almost touch beneath the table. The place is quieter now, the crowd thinned out, and the music in the background is a mellow guitar riff.

My phone buzzes against the table, and I glance down to see a text from Chloe.